If it's Love
by Cynthia Salander
Summary: No strings attached. That was the deal. But what would you do if it turns into something more? Or worse, what if it's Love? Things are never as simple as they appear. Mondler.
1. Tears

_A/N: Well, yet another series, the plot of which has been stuck in my brain for quite some time now._

_This is the first time I am writing a fic that's not aligned centrally, and you have no idea how uncomfortable I feel now with left alignment! Emily J and BluEyes, I don't know whether you guys are reading this, but if you are, I really do appreciate you letting me know that most readers are not probably comfortable with center alignment._

**If it's Love**

**Chapter 1**

**February 1993**

_It's not you, Monica. It's me. _

That's what he said. And she knew damn well that it _was _him. That rotten son of a bitch.

_I can't commit to anyone right now._

He told her that, too, and now, three months later, he was getting married to someone else.

She felt something flare inside her chest as she read the words 'You are cordially invited to celebrate the wedding' glittering on the invitation. It wasn't addressed to her, of course. Her friends had probably been careful in hiding their invitations, but this one had escaped their attention, which in turn had grabbed hers.

Those feelings of hurt, disappointment and dejection which she'd thought she'd succeeded in burying deep within, surfaced again now, along with something else. Humiliation.

She could feel her breath coming in quick, sudden gasps. She could feel her eyes burning with tears, blurring the words on the invitation.

She closed her eyes, letting her tears fall. Those were the tears that she'd refused to allow to fall, just a few months back, and now, this little piece of paper had successfully broken her resolve.

The anger that grew slowly and steadily, suddenly reached a boiling point. She was no longer crying.

She tore the invitation neatly in half. The two pieces of paper that remained in her hands met the same fate. She repeated the action over and over again, until all that remained in her hands were bits and pieces of the invitation that was no longer readable.

She turned her palms down and allowed the pieces of paper to fall on the floor, watching them as they fluttered about before they reached the ground.

She turned around when she heard the door creek open and saw that the person had stopped dead in his tracks, as he watched what was happening.

His face taking on a pained expression, he whispered, "I am so sorry, Mon."

She nodded, tears now freely flowing down her cheeks.

"It'll get better, I promise," he whispered again, fiercely, as though her broken heart was somehow breaking his own.

She nodded again, even though she didn't believe his words.

She just hoped they would become true. That they would become true, soon.

~.~.~

_A/N: Confused? I'll clear things up in the next chapter. This will definitely be a shorter fic, (hopefully) not more than six or seven chapters. I think I'll be updating 'That Thing Called Love' next, but even that's gonna take me a while. And, those who reviewed 'Only You', Thank you :)_


	2. Hope

_A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! I really appreciate it :)_

_BluEyes and Jen, you guys get a whole load of affirmative answers from me: Yes, it's Kip. Yes, it's the Train song (I love it :)), and yes, there's no Rachel yet :)_

_And another thing, no Joey yet, either._

**If it's Love**

**Chapter 2**

"You should have been more careful, Chandler." Ross shook his head disapprovingly. "Phoebe actually lives _with _Monica and she did a better job of hiding the invitation!"

The three of them sitting adjacent to each other in the bar, drinking, Chandler had thought it would be best to reveal to Ross and Phoebe how upset Monica had been on finding Kip's wedding invitation on his couch, the previous evening, especially now that Monica wasn't around.

"Yeah, I just packed it along with my mother's skull and took it to my grandmother's place." Phoebe nodded, swiveling on the bar stool to face the guys. She looked at them like there was nothing unordinary about her statement, as the two men continued to stare at her dumbfounded.

Finally, Chandler shrugged helplessly. "How was I supposed to know that she'd come to my apartment while I wasn't there, looking for something that I don't even _remember_ borrowing?"

"Well, for starters, you could _stop_ borrowing flowery-smelling shampoos and leave-in conditioners from us." Phoebe suggested, and on noticing the dirty look that Chandler was giving her, she swiveled away from him, exclaiming, "Oh, look, my beer is getting warm!" She finished her beer with one huge gulp and plopped the can down on the counter. "OK, I've gotta get going. I am taking my stereo over to my grandma's place today," she said as she got off the stool.

"So, you're _never _going to tell Monica that you're moving out, until one fine day, when she actually finds you missing?" Chandler asked for clarification.

"Uh huh." She nodded, picking up her over-sized bag from the stool next to hers. "That's the plan."

"Phoebe! Don't you thi-" Ross started, hoping to knock some sense into her head, but she cut him off.

"Hey, _your _sister is driving me crazy! The other day, I just put my feet up on the couch and she threatened me, saying that she'd cut my toes off, one by one!" She pointed at Ross threateningly, until he backed off. "Did you see the spaghetti stain on that cushion? She'd probably kill me with one of her ladles!"

"Pheebs, calm down." Chandler stroked her arm soothingly. "It's OK. We won't tell her about the cushion and hopefully, before she finds it, _you'll_ die of some natural cause."

She nodded slowly, shooting one final glare at Ross. "Yeah, let's hope so."

"Man, she _is _scary," Ross muttered when she left, turning towards Chandler, who nodded in assent. "So, I saw your ad for a roommate. Any responses yet?"

"Yeah, a couple. This one guy wanted to know whether it was allowed to have pets in the apartment, and what I am afraid of is the fact that he spoke in plural. It was _pets, _not pet_._" He finished his drink. "Man, I sure do miss Kip." He sighed. "If only he hadn't been such a jerk to Monica."

"I don't know, Chandler." Ross shook his head. "I was never fond of that guy. I never really saw what you and Monica saw in him."

"Did you talk to Monica today?" Chandler asked Ross.

"Yeah, it's her weekly 'talk-to-mom' day. She's dreading it." His mother always found something to criticize Monica, and now that she was single, his mother's arsenal would be even better supplied.

"I haven't seen her since last night." Chandler got off the bar stool. "Is she back from work yet?" When Ross shook his head, he added, "I guess I'll have to wait till evening then. If I am lucky, I'll get to see her before she talks to your mom."

Monica's demeanor after her conversations with Judy Geller always changed visibly, and her friends weren't fond of the 'post-mom conversation' Monica.

"OK. I have to go check whether the 'pets' guy called again." Chandler patted Ross on the back. "Say hi to Carol for me." He lowered his voice. "And good luck for tonight."

The last time he'd had sex was a vague memory now. He hoped at least his friend would _get some_ that night.

~.~

"Hello, sweetie. How is Kip?" her mother asked.

Most moms probably started their telephone conversations with 'how are _you_', but not her mother. Her mother's brain was like radar. For some reason, it could always detect what was lacking in Monica's life, and bring it to focus.

"He should be fine, mom." She sighed, wondering for the umpteenth time as to why she was putting herself through _this, _every week.

She knew for a fact that Chandler hadn't spoken to his mother since Christmas. There were people around the world, who probably spoke to their mothers for like once a year, but still, _she _was one of those overly-optimistic kids, who thought that someday, maybe their mothers would have something nice to tell them.

Luck had never once been on her side on this matter, though.

"He _should _be? What's that supposed to mean?" her mother sounded confused.

"Kip and I broke up, mom." She revealed finally. She'd kept it a secret from her mother for three months, but now, she saw no point in doing so. She was beyond caring.

"What?" Her mother was shocked. "How?"

"Things didn't work out, mom. We wanted different things," she explained, not caring to elaborate it further, knowing what was coming next.

"Monica, Kip was the only good thing in your life." Judy sighed, her disappointment towards her daughter very evident. "Who knows how long it'll take you to get another boyfriend?"

"I don't know, mother." Her nostrils were flaring. "But he sure doesn't have any such problems. He's getting married next week." The minute she said it, she knew it was not the best of things she could have told her mother.

"Oh, god. He dumped you for another woman!" her mother exclaimed. "Monica, at your age, I was married to your father. If you keep driving men away, you're never-"

Monica pulled the phone from her ear and gave it a nasty look.

_Mental note: Calling mom – Bad mistake. Bad. Mistake._

~.~

"Hey, Mon!" Chandler entered her apartment cheerfully, but his expression changed when he saw the look on her face. She'd talked to her mother.

"Hey," she murmured absentmindedly, from her position on the couch.

"I was gonna go to the bar. You wanna get a drink with me?" He sat down next to her on the couch.

"Nah… I don't really feel like it." She shook her head, finally looking at him.

He sighed. "Is this about Kip?"

She shook her head again, slowly. "I talked to my mother."

"I figured." He pulled himself closer to her, draping an arm across the back of the couch, his fingers stroking her hair sympathetically.

"Was he cheating on me Chandler?" she asked him after a few seconds of silence, staring straight into his eyes.

"What?" he looked at her, confused.

"Three months just seems to be too soon a time to fall in love and get married." She shrugged.

"So it _is _about Kip," he said, his voice revealing frustration.

"Was he cheating on me?" she repeated her question.

"I don't know, Mon." He replied honestly. "Do you really think I'd keep something like that from you, if I knew?"

She nodded slowly, turning her face away from his. "I am sorry."

He placed a finger on her chin and turned her face towards him again, "If he did cheat on you, he's a bastard. He didn't deserve you, Monica. To be honest, _you _don't deserve him. You deserve a guy who knows your worth, who knows that having you is the best thing in his life."

"Really?" she appeared touched.

"Really," he nodded emphatically.

She smiled softly and pulled him into a hug. "I don't know what I'd do without you," she sighed.

"Ditto, Mon." He smiled back, placing a kiss on her forehead as she pulled away. "Hang in there, Monica. I know for a fact that things will get better. _You _are going to find your very own Hugh Grant look-alike who'll cherish you forever."

She grinned at him, wrinkling her nose. "I don't really like Hugh Grant that much."

"Oh," he nodded thoughtfully. "Anthony Hopkins, then?"

She laughed as she smacked his arm.

He grinned back, happy that he'd made her laugh. "OK, OK," he said in a pacifying tone. "Your favorite celebrity look-alike is on his way," he stood up, tugging at her hand. "He's probably having some trouble finding his shining armor, though. So, I am guessing we still have some time before he reaches here." He glanced at his watch. "So how about that drink now?"

"OK," she grinned, allowing him to pull her out of her apartment and down the stairs, as he led her to the bar.

She smiled when her pulled her closer, whispering in her ear about the way the bartender's hair looked.

Maybe thing _would _eventually get better.

~.~.~

_A/N: I hope everyone is familiar with who Kip is. If you aren't, he was Chandler's roommate before Joey, and it is said that Kip and Monica dated, and when they broke up, he got 'phased out'. Chandler also says that Kip 'ran off and got married', and that's what I am basing this series on._

_Well, this chapter is just for setting up the foundation. I think you might know where I am headed with this, if you've read the summary. But if you still aren't sure, just wait for the next chapter._

_(This series will be more R-rated than PG from now on, if we're comparing it to movie ratings. Nothing explicit, but you've been warned.)_

_If I receive some nice, quick reviews, you'd receive an update by the end of this week ;)_


	3. Just For Tonight

_A/N: Wow, and I thought I was going easy on Judy. Anyway, thank you for the great reviews! And no, I don't think the alignment is affecting my writing in any way, but if you feel so, let me know :)_

_Yes, Joey is making an appearance in this chapter, and so is Rachel. This chapter deals with the events of 'TOW the Flashback', and it would help if you're familiar with it._

_(I laughed out loud on reading the whole Hibachi suggestion :D)_

_If anyone's wondering what happened to my two other series, I'd suggest not to worry. Both of them will be updated and both of them will be completed (soon)._

__(**Lizard **and **dancer cherrybug**, if you're reading this, I just wanted to say that I will be updating 'Forever and a Day', definitely by the next Saturday.)__

__**I deleted this chapter and re-uploaded it. Emily J, I hope you can read it now. (I tried to open it myself, after you said, but even I couldn't!)**__

__I was around three years old when the show first aired :) (I got acquainted with the show through DVDs.)__

**If it's Love**

**Chapter 3**

**March 1993**

_That looks like Rachel. _That's what Monica thought on seeing the woman dressed in lavender. She looked strikingly different from the gossip-loving, sweet high-school girl that she used to be, but still, Monica could recognize that face anywhere.

She hadn't thought about her in years, let alone seen her. She'd tried to maintain some kind of contact with Rachel, but on noticing that the efforts were one-sided, she'd given up. For a moment, a pang of regret overwhelmed her for what the two of them had lost, possibly forever, but she brushed it aside.

She observed that Chandler was walking back from the group of women, embarrassment evident on his face. "I went to high school with her," she told him, and before she could stop herself, she called out for Rachel, ignoring Chandler's weird gesturing.

Recognition flickered across Rachel's features on seeing the person who'd called out for her. "Monica!" she exclaimed, holding up her ring finger for her long-forgotten friend to see. She got off her seat, clearly excited, still holding her finger up. "Monica! Look! What do you think?"

Following the cursory hug, Monica examined the finger that was still thrust in her face. "Oh, my god! You can't even see where the Titanic hit it!" she remarked on the gaudy ring.

That seemed to please Rachel, who took the statement as a compliment. She informed her that her fiancé was a doctor. "So, how about you? Are you seeing anybody?"

That was one question that haunted her these days. She put on a smiling face and replied as brightly as she could. "Not right now." She shook her head, smiling.

But Rachel appeared flummoxed by the answer, as though being single was a phenomenon that she'd never heard of before. "Oh, but that's OK," she told Monica, sympathetically.

"I know." Monica nodded, offended by Rachel's reaction. She was now regretting her impromptu decision to call out for Rachel.

Time sure has its effect on every relationship, including friendship, she decided as the two of them stared at each other, neither knowing what to say next. _Let me put this awkward meeting to an end. _"So, I- I think I'll get back to my friend." She could see the relief in Rachel's face, knowing that it was mirrored in her own.

"Oh, sure, sure." Rachel nodded, turning towards Chandler, who grinned at her sheepishly, as he held up the cue ball. She ignored him and turned towards Monica again. "Listen, can we please have lunch the next time I am in the city?"

Another perfunctory gesture. Monica nodded, agreeing. "Oh, that would be great!"

Chandler, still holding the ball for some strange reason, stood up as Rachel left. Monica prophesied without turning to look at him. "Ten bucks says I never see that woman again in my life."

He placed the cue ball on the table, knowing that she was no longer in the mood to play pool. "Or, we could spice things up," he told her as he tried to cheer her up.

"How?" She saw him smiling suggestively at her.

"If I win, you sleep with me. If you win, I'll sleep with you." He shrugged. "At any rate, that's better than your ten bucks."

"In you dreams, Bing." She slapped his arm lightly, smiling for his sake, as they left the bar together.

She glanced at Rachel one last time, as her brain processed the fact that her childhood friend was getting married.

Her ex-boyfriend was now married, too.

Everyone seemed to be getting married. Everyone except her. She was nowhere close to a wedding.

"So, who is this new roommate?" she asked Chandler, to take her mind off everything else, as they entered her apartment.

"Eric. He's the photographer. I told you, right?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "But didn't you say he was _dull_?"

"Mon," he held her shoulders as he spoke. "When the dull guy photographs models and when the dull guy's sister is a porn star, you _have _to overlook the dullness."

She grinned, shrugging. "I still wish you'd chosen the Italian guy. He was cute!"

He raised an eyebrow. "What's with you and my roommates, anyway?" he regretted asking the question almost as soon as he asked it. Mentioning or even referring to Kip, in front of Monica, was blasphemy. "I am sorry," he murmured on seeing the hurt on her face.

She nodded. "That's alright."

Unless she figured out a way to get over this whole Kip thing, it was going to suck her life away, slowly and steadily.

~.~

So the 'cute Italian guy' had stripped in front of her.

At least, for his part, he'd had the grace to appear embarrassed. "This stays between us, right?" Joey had asked once she explained that 'you wanna come in for some lemonade?' didn't essentially mean 'you wanna have sex?' And she'd agreed. The last thing that she needed was for Chandler to be unhappy with another roommate of his, because of her.

Was she giving off some sort of strange pheromone that attracted men like these? With the vacuum cleaner in her hands, she turned towards Phoebe's room. _What the-_ She turned off the machine, looking at Phoebe. "Pheebs! Where's your bed?"

Phoebe stuttered and stumbled on her words, before she finally told the truth. "I- I've- I don't live here anymore."

Phoebe held Monica's hand in hers and explained. "I love you and I want us to be friends. But if I keep living here, I don't see that happening."

Monica nodded, although she didn't understand the reason behind Phoebe's reluctance to live with her. The stain on the cushion bothered her, but that was who she was. In these days that had followed her breakup with Kip, she'd been grateful for the warmth and friendship that Phoebe, Chandler and Ross had provided her with.

"Will you help me pack the rest of my things?" That was Phoebe's way of cheering her up.

Things were starting to change. It just felt like something was sapping her energy.

Phoebe was leaving her. Leaving her alone.

~.~

The week couldn't possibly get worse. Kip was married. Rachel was _getting _married. Her neighbor had stripped in her apartment. Phoebe had moved out.

She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself. Maybe she really was difficult to deal with. That was probably why people kept leaving her. She opened the bathroom door and started towards her bedroom.

"Hello!" Chandler greeted her in a singsong voice as he entered the apartment. "Do you have any beers? We're out of beers."

"Help yourself." She pointed at the fridge, glumly.

Her dreary response caught his attention. "You okay?" He moved away from the fridge and towards her.

She stopped in her tracks and turned around, sighing. "Phoebe moved out."

He nodded, unsurprised. "Right."

"I don't understand. Am I so hard to live with?" she tried unsuccessfully to keep the desperation out of her voice. "Is this why I don't have a boyfriend?"

"No!" he denied it with firmness in his voice. "You don't have a boyfriend, because…" he trailed off, not really knowing the answer to that question. "I don't know why you don't have a boyfriend." He moved closer to her. "You _should _have a boyfriend," he told her sincerely.

"I think so." Tears stung at the back of her eyes.

"Oh, come here." He closed the gap between them and pulled her into a hug, neither of them caring that she was wearing only a towel. "Listen," he continued, pulling her closer to him. "_You _are one of my favorite people, _and_ the most beautiful woman I've ever known in real life."

She smiled up at him before she laid her head back on his chest, hugging him tightly. "What would I do without you?" she mumbled, her voice muffled against his chest.

He pressed his lips against the side of her head. "Ditto, Mon."

She leaned back in his embrace, looking at him carefully, trying to remember the last time he hadn't been there for her. She couldn't. He was always there to tell her that things were going to be OK. He was always there to lend her his shoulder to lean on, after a lousy date. He was always there to wipe her tears away. He was always there to make her happy.

"What?" he looked at her inquisitively, brushing her cheek with his fingers.

Maybe he could make her happy _now_?

"Chandler, do you ever think that there could be something more between us?" she cocked an eyebrow, pulling further away from him to look at him.

He couldn't figure out what she was talking about. Any other time, he'd have thought she was pulling his leg, but now, he knew she was too depressed to joke. "What?" he asked her again, wondering whether he'd heard her right.

A look of determination settled over her features. She stood on her toes and kissed his jaw line, noticing his sharp intake of breath. "Do you think two friends could sleep together for one night and not have it be a big deal?"

Now, there was no doubt in his mind as to what she was talking about. His hands hovered around her waist, helpless, as he stood still in shock and consternation. "I don't think friendship works that way, Mon," he managed finally, before he held her by her waist and gently moved her away. "Joey is probably waiting for me. And I should let you get dressed."

Still reeling under the shock, he was unprepared when she threw her arms around his neck again as she kissed the corner of his mouth. "Just for tonight, Chandler," she whispered against his lips, even though they weren't kissing.

She was turning them around and backing him towards the bedroom door. Too many voices screaming in his brain, one told him the most ludicrous thought, given the circumstances – _she is surprisingly strong for a woman of her frame._ His back met the bedroom door, but unfortunately for him, the door hadn't been closed properly. The door swung open as both of them stumbled into her bedroom, until his back was firmly pressed against the wall, and she was pressed against him.

She was peppering his face with kisses. "Monica, this is a terrible id-" he started, but she cut him off.

"I need this, Chandler. I am sick and tired of being miserable." Her lips met the juncture of his neck and shoulder, giving him a hickey. "I need you."

His ragged breathing and wildly thumping heart weren't helping him. He was on the verge of losing his sanity. "Mon, I don't think it's such a good idea." His fingers gripped her shoulders tightly, but he couldn't find the strength to push her away.

She stopped her ministrations for a moment and pulled away to look at him. "Who said it was a good idea?" She shook her head. "All I am saying is, I need this to alleviate the pain, and you, how long has it even been since you last had sex?" Her eyebrow climbed higher as she waited for him to answer.

She had a point. And there was no way in hell he was going to answer _that_ question.

When it became clear that he wasn't going to reply, she murmured seductively, "It's a win-win situation, Chandler." She undid a couple of buttons on his shirt and kissed the exposed skin, both of them knowing fully well that he was about to crack.

There was only so much a man could take. He closed his eyes in frustration. It was like a deep buried fantasy come true. If she'd wanted this from him a few years back, he'd have gladly said yes. But now, was it worth risking a friendship of almost five years? Didn't _he _have any self-control?

She undid the remaining buttons on his shirt and pulled the shirt off his shoulders. Her fingers moved along his ribcage, drawing lazy circles around his navel as she placed feathery kisses along his torso. "Just for tonight, Chandler," she breathed against his skin.

He struggled with his conscience for a few moments, but if it was just for one night, what was the harm?

Lust won out over sanity.

"Just for tonight?" he asked breathlessly, seeking confirmation, his fingers lingering on the ridge of her towel.

She yanked the towel away from her body in one swift motion. "Just for tonight," she repeated, just as breathless, wasting no time in pulling his lips towards hers for a kiss, pressing her body flush against his.

All the rational thoughts flying out the window as their lips met, she parted her lips, allowing his tongue to softly, tentatively caress hers, his hands roaming her body. He groaned into the kiss when her hand brushed his groin, making him more aroused than he already was, her fingers working on the fly of his jeans.

When his blood rapidly drained from his brain and drifted south, with a purpose, he knew they were in trouble.

At that moment, with the feel of her deliciously warm, bare skin against him drugging him instantly, he couldn't have cared less for any trouble that they were getting themselves into.

If only it could be as simple as '_just for tonight'._

~.~.~

_A/N: What can I say? I've been watching loads of FWB themed movies (No strings attached, Friends with benefits and Love and other drugs) and here's the end product ;)_

_Reviews, please? :)_


	4. Something More

_A/N: I struggled quite a bit with this chapter. I mean, I know exactly where the story's going, I know what I should write in the following chapters, and I know precisely how the story ends. But this chapter… God! I am glad that I finally came around to finishing it. Sorry, this was why it took me **this** long to update the fic. I have slipped into second person narrative here, in, like, two or three lines. I hope it doesn't constrict the flow of the story. _

**If it's Love**

**Chapter 4**

Three condoms and several hours later, the two people lay in silence, contemplating their next move. Reality was setting in, with the post-coital euphoria slowly fading away.

In retrospect, things looked a lot worse than they would have liked. The conclusion was simple. 'Friends' don't sleep around. They just don't.

"I should get going," he said in a hushed tone, staring straight at the ceiling, breaking the tense silence.

He'd done millions of stupid things, all through his life as an adult. But _this_ took the cake. He mentally patted himself on the back. _Congratulations on reaching an all-new low._

"Yeah, you probably should," she replied in the same hushed tone, pulling the sheets closer to her, trying to prevent his bare skin from touching hers. _A little too late for that, don't you think?_

Seducing someone was supposed to make her feel better. But that was not the way it was working right now. A strange combination of remorse, guilt and mortification swirled inside of her, as she implored the Mother Earth to open up and swallow her. She attributed the failure of her plan to the fact that the person whom she'd seduced was _Chandler._

You build a friendship for years. One moment of impetuousness is all it takes to ruin it. He finally turned his head and met her eyes. "Let's just pretend that this never happened," he told her, knowing she was thinking the same thing.

She nodded slowly, turning her head towards the ceiling, her lips curving into a mirthless smile. "I guess friendship really _doesn't_ work that way, huh?"

"No." He shook his head, sitting up, sighing as he ran his fingers through his hair. "It doesn't." He looked at her again, trying to not notice the opalescent glow that the moonlight pouring in through the window had bestowed upon her. "So." No new conversations could start here, and nothing was left to be continued. He tried desperately to remember the way he'd used to _look_ at her, before this night. Just as Monica, his friend. It seemed harder than he'd thought.

"So," she echoed, wondering if the awkwardness would fade away with time. She hoped it would, for if it didn't, she and he would both lose something very valuable, and it'd all be her fault.

"I have no idea what I'll say to Joey, if he asks," he smiled, wanting to keep the morning-after conversation, light. He hadn't had a lot of experience in that area.

"Yeah," she sighed, watching him lean over the side of her bed to gather his clothes, turning away as he got dressed, neither in the mood to continue the topic.

He leaned over onto her side as he buttoned up his shirt. She closed her eyes when she felt his warm lips on her forehead, his goatee rough against her skin. The act, which had once been so familiar and comforting to them both, now felt different somehow. Maybe they'd lost something already, she thought, tears pricking behind her closed eyelids.

She felt the bed shift as he got off it, she heard his footsteps as he walked away from her, and she finally opened her eyes when he opened the bedroom door.

Their eyes met for one last time, seeking a silent confirmation that it was _okay_, that their friendship was still intact, and that it could survive this.

"I'll see you at breakfast," he whispered into the darkness, knowing he would remember the image of a naked, aroused and vulnerable Monica for a very long time, and will even relish the memory, whether or not he liked it.

She nodded, watching his silhouette leave the room, closing the door behind him without a sound.

~.~

Even though they'd been roommates for only about a week, Chandler could sense that he and Joey would become good friends within no time, maybe even as close as he was with Ross. There was something congenial between them, but he didn't know what it was. He certainly did not share the persistent hunger for women or food, with Joey, but there was something that made them click.

"I thought you and Monica were just friends," Joey stated, wiping his milk mustache with the back of his hand, as he downed a huge glass of milk, even though he knew they'd both be leaving for Monica's place for breakfast, within ten minutes.

For the copious amount of food that he consumed, it was a genetic miracle that Joey Tribbiani was not fat.

Chandler had hoped his not-so-bright new roommate wouldn't have noticed his absence the previous night, but he obviously had been wrong. "We-we _are_ just friends," he stuttered, concentrating on tying his tie, as he struggled to think of a good reason to explain his absence, if Joey questioned him further.

"You spent the night at her place, then?" Joey frowned, not knowing that he was making Chandler uncomfortable. "Do you guys do that often?"

"No, we don't do it often!" Chandler started defensively, but stopped just as soon as he realized how he'd sounded. This should remain a secret between him and Monica. He took a deep breath and continued in a slow monotone, "We were just watching a movie together, and I fell asleep on her couch. That's all." His tone indicated to Joey that he did not wish to discuss it further.

Sensing that he'd touched a nerve, Joey backed off. "Okkaay!" No woman had ever refused sex with him, but Monica had. He had only one logical explanation for that: she and Chandler had a thing. He decided to leave it at that. "Shall we get going?" Joey pointed at the door, and started towards the place that acted as his next source of food.

~.~

Chandler took a bite of his toast, casting a discreet glance at Monica. They had skirted around attraction on innumerable occasions, but none of those occasions had went beyond the usual _almost_ kiss. Sure, they had always considered themselves to be the best of friends, but there was an invisible line of 'something more' with which they had flirted one too many times. He wondered whether that was why the previous night had happened.

Discussions and conversations were flowing at their usual pace, but he failed in his efforts to concentrate on anything that was being said. It took him a few moments to notice that Monica was not engaged in any of the discussions, either.

Joey leaned forward, interested, when Ross started to talk about how his wife was _so_ gay, wondering how he'd failed to notice all the signs, even before she'd told him point blank. "You really didn't know?" Joey asked for the third time that morning, and shrunk back into his chair when Ross turned to glower at him.

"Oh, I know what you're going through, Ross." Phoebe patted his arm consolingly. "I mean, I had _no_ idea that Duncan was gay until he told me."

Yeah, well, everyone else knew Duncan was gay, even before he told Phoebe.

Ross nodded sympathetically. "I know, Pheebs. I know."

Chandler found it interesting that these two were bonding over their partners' hidden sexual orientation. Now that was something that would probably never happen outside their dysfunctional group. He turned towards Monica with an amused smile, like he always did when he found something to be funny.

But she didn't smile back like _she_ always did. His smile dropped from his face as his memories of the previous night came back in a rush. She just held his gaze, while he saw something flicker in her eyes before she turned away.

He looked down at his plate again, realizing that they both, too, had contributed to the dysfunctionality of their little group, in their own way.

~.~

He waited until the other three left, not knowing that all the while, she was wishing that _he _would be the first one to leave.

He always ran when something went wrong in his life. It was an instinct. But this time, he wanted to face it head-on. He knew she didn't want to talk about what had happened between them and neither did he, but he also knew that they _had_ to. He wanted her reassurance, and he wanted to reassure _her_ that they would always be Chandler and Monica, the best of friends with an intent that was nothing but platonic.

He started tugging at his cuff, not knowing what to say, as she started to do the dishes, completely ignoring him. Finally, gathering the courage, he moved closer to her and turned the tap off. "I don't want it to be awkward between us, Mon." He held her hands, urging her to turn towards him.

She complied after a moment's hesitation. "I know," she sighed, shaking her head. "What was I thinking?" she smiled up at him wryly, her cheeks turning red.

"Oh, I don't know." He shook his head. "You slept with _me_! I mean, how depressed _were_ you?" he asked with a look of genuine wonderment on his face, tilting his head to one side.

"You don't give yourself enough credit, Chandler. Last night was…" she shrugged, struggling to find the correct word, all the while wondering _why_ she was steering the conversation in this direction. "It was nice," she finished, her eyes moving away from his.

He didn't correct her understatement. If they'd known sex between friends could be _so _good, he didn't think they'd have waited this long. "Yeah, it was." He nodded, acutely aware that they were flirting with that invisible line again. "_But, _afterwards, it didn't feel that great," he shook his head, wanting to bring the conversation back on track. This friendship _should_ remain platonic. He was never good at relationships. Romance was not his forte and it never would be. _If_, by some miraculous incident, this thing between him and Monica turned into something more and _if_, he screwed it up (which he definitely will), he would never be able to forgive himself.

She stared back at him, nodding slowly, thoughtfully. "I am sorry, Chandler," she whispered softly, peering into his eyes. "I didn't mean for last night to happen."

At that moment, he wasn't sorry, at least not entirely so. But he nodded in acceptance, wondering whether she had ever thought about crossing that line with him, before last night. For the sake of his self-esteem, he hoped she had. "Can I hug you now?" he asked her with a sudden desperation to be in her warm embrace.

She smiled, accepting his arms around her. Her ear pressed right above his racing heart, she tightened her arms around him. "What would I do without you, Chandler?" she murmured, even as she felt her own heart quicken its pace.

And that's what made something snap in him. '_What would I do without you?' _A statement so simple, yet so profound that it could explain the complete dependence of a person on you. Every time he replied _'Ditto, Mon'_ he knew his life completely depended on her, too. They would never ruin their friendship. If he was looking for a moment of reassurance, it was _this._

Nothing could ever ruin their friendship.

Maybe it was the smell of her skin, of her dark hair or maybe it was something entirely different, but something snapped in him. Letting the moment, along with the bolt of electricity that shot through his body to take over him, he drew back and met her gaze. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers in a soft, tentative kiss, waiting for her to push him off her.

But she didn't protest. She pulled him closer instead.

They'd skirted around this line far too often. They'd even crossed it the previous night. So what was the harm in doing it once more? What was the harm even if they kept doing it?

The answer that they both came up with was 'nothing'. As long as it stayed this way, as long as it didn't turn into something _more_ than _this_, there was no harm.

She had worried that they'd _lost_ something, but now, she knew that they'd _found_ something, too. Was this what they called serendipity? She parted her lips, allowing him to explore her mouth.

Her lips tasted just as delicious as they'd tasted the previous night. His fingers winding in her hair, he moved his lips to her jaw line.

"What are we doing?" Her voice held a trace of apprehension and fear, but lust clouded her senses. She clutched his shoulders tightly.

"I have no idea." He shook his head, leaning in to brush his lips against her neck. "Friendship _could_ work this way, though," he murmured against her throat.

She leaned her head to one side as he kissed her neck, providing him with better access. Feeling the very obvious bulge in his pants, against her hip, she closed her eyes, sighing in pleasure. "It could," she whispered back, her fingers working on his tie.

In fact, friendship worked _better_ this way. His own fingers slowly undoing the buttons on her shirt, he leaned in to kiss her again.

They both had to leave for work, but work could always wait.

She met his lips for a moment, but drew back a second later, stopping his hands from undoing the last button. "If we're doing this," she pecked his lips lightly, "we need to have some ground rules."

"Sure," he nodded, his attention not wavering from the last button as his fingers undid it finally, when she didn't put up any resistance this time. Screw platonic love. "For starters, it's only sex. Nothing more."

"Yes." She agreed. "Birthdays, funerals, holidays-" she paused as he pushed the shirt off her shoulders, his attention shifting immediately to her jeans.

"Good days, bad days," he continued from where she'd left off, his lips moving to the folds of her ear, brushing against it. "Horny days." He cocked his eyebrow.

She nodded as she helped him remove his shirt, both of them moving towards the couch. "We're not exclusive. If there's a potential for a real relationship with someone else, we stop."

"No jealousy, no possessiveness. And this stays between us." His hands moving to her back to unclasp her bra, they sunk onto the couch. "Just sex. Nothing more," he repeated, leaning in to kiss her again.

"Nothing more," she echoed, pulling him closer on top of her.

Finally, as he captured her lips with his own in a searing kiss, they shared one last unspoken rule.

No falling in love.

~.~.~

_A/N: That's short by my usual standards… Anyhow, the next chapter (I am guessing) would be longer than this. And it shouldn't (hopefully) take me too long to update. I'd really, really appreciate reviews for this chapter. _


	5. Right

_A/N: lurknomore, Veridissima, rt123, Emily J and the anonymous reviewer, thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I am glad you guys like the 'fic, and I hope you're still reading :)_

_Oh, yeah, they are kidding themselves, but it's always fun to write! :D_

_OK__, I like Janice, but the way she is portrayed here is because it is from CB's POV, not mine. _

**If it's Love**

**Chapter 5**

**June 1993**

"Do you know what I like the most in you?" Monica asked Chandler, tracing his features with her forefinger.

One arm holding her close to him, his other reached for her face, reciprocating her actions. "My big, warm, loving heart?" His fingers brushed her lips, just as hers traveled towards his torso.

Two more hours until it would be time for him to return to his bed. After almost three months of sleeping together, they'd found a pattern. He would come over to her place at around midnight, he'd stay there until three in the morning, and then he'd return to his apartment. No sleeping over. It could complicate things.

Her hands descended further below and he thought she'd forgotten about the question. At least, _he_ was about to forget it. But she shook her head. "No."

"My sense of humor?" he tried again.

The only light in the room was the streetlight reflecting off the window. Their bare skin warm and touching, the sheets slipped away from over them as she moved closer. She was laughing lightly. "No. That would be 'Do you know what I find the weirdest about you?'."

"Oh, you're paying for _that_," he muttered as he rolled them over, moving on top of her. "So, what is it? My huge pe-" She cut him off, laughing harder, shaking her head. "Hey!" he glared at her defensively.

She pulled him closer, kissing his cheek consolingly. "I do have very high regards for your huge um…" she shrugged, looking down. He nodded his understanding, and she continued, her hand reaching up to trail a finger down the bridge of his nose, to the tip. "But I _love _your nose. It's sharp, it's angular. It's perfect." She kissed the tip of his nose and leaned back against the pillow, smiling up at him.

He grinned back, satisfied with her answer. "And I love _yours_. It's small, it's straight. It's perfect." He nudged her nose with his, leaning in to kiss her chin. Flirting was not a new territory to them, but as days passed, each nighttime tryst felt even more exciting than it should. They didn't mind. "You know, when I was a kid, I always wondered how people kissed without bumping their noses."

She giggled. "I hope you've figured it out by now?"

He shrugged, smiling back.

The smile dropped from her face. She hooked her hands around his neck, pulling him closer. "Maybe we should figure it out now again?" She cocked an eyebrow, her gaze holding his.

"Okay." He nodded, the lust that had been lingering just below the surface coming to prominence. His hands framing her face, he leaned in to kiss her parted lips, knowing it would soon be time to use condom No.2 for the night.

~.~

He glanced at the clock on his table, longingly. Work was always boring, but with images of Monica flashing in his brain at very regular intervals, it was becoming even harder to concentrate. The new girl, Nina something, passed by his cubicle, smiling at him. He smiled back distractedly. Before Monica, he'd have thought she was cute, but now, he didn't even give her a second glance.

His phone rang, the shrill tone being a welcome intrusion in his distracted mind. He picked it up, hoping it wasn't his mother placing one of her sporadically impulsive calls. "Hello."

"Hey, it's me," answered Monica's voice.

He smiled widely, and he could almost sense Monica smiling at the other end. "Hey, Mon. What's up?"

"Not much. Just wanted to remind you that dinner's at 7, my place. Ross and Phoebe are also coming. Oh, and don't forget to buy wine," she said, sounding like she was reading from a list.

"Okay," he replied, writing down 'wine' on his palm. It was always better not to forget things that Monica told you to do. He placed the pen down and held the receiver. "So…" he trailed off, not knowing what else to say, but not wanting to hang up.

"So," she breathed down the phone, feeling as reluctant to end the conversation as he did. After a few moments of complete silence, she spoke again, her voice low. "Would you think less of me as a woman if I told you that am horny?"

He chuckled softly, but replied a second later, after casting furtive glances around to make sure that nobody was listening. "I am horny, too, baby," he whispered back, realizing a moment too late that he'd used a term of endearment. From the lack of immediate response from her side, he knew she'd heard it, too. He closed his eyes, shaking his head, annoyed at himself. They were treading a thin line, and one slip up could ruin everything. He continued, to help the conversation progress. "I guess that's all the more reason for me to get home soon."

"Yeah," she murmured, her voice sounding distant. "I'll see you soon."

"See you soon," he echoed, and hung up the phone.

~.~

Chandler wondered for the hundredth time within the last ten minutes as to why on earth did he have to _literally_ bump into this woman.

The woman, whose name he'd immediately forgotten (_Janet? Janine?_), was laughing uncontrollably at something that he'd just said. He hadn't even meant it to be funny. And her laugh… it didn't sound normal. It was extremely nasal, high-pitched. Unpleasant and annoying to say the least and he knew he'd have reached this particular impression even if he wasn't harboring a teeny-tiny crush on his best friend.

"Oh, My God!" the woman exclaimed, stressing each and every word, and wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes. "Chandler, you're funny!"

Well, at least _she_ remembered his name.

He smiled back politely and held up the bottle of wine that he'd picked up. "I've gotta get going," he pointed at the billing counter, hoping she'd take the hint and move away.

He should have known better, though. The woman had started the conversation by pointing at his ring-less ring finger and by asking him whether he had a girlfriend. The only mistake that he'd made was that he hadn't lied. He had told the truth that he didn't have a girlfriend.

"It was nice meeting you, Chandler Bing," she smiled, looking expectantly at him.

"You, too." He smiled back and tried to move away, but she grabbed his arm tightly.

"Hold on." She released his arm and dug into her purse, pulling out a pen and a small piece of paper. She scribbled her name and her phone number on it and handed it to him. "Call me." She laughed again and he resisted the urge to close his ears.

And that should have been it. He would have smiled back, left for the billing counter, bought the wine and would have thrown away the piece of paper after he'd left the store. But fate had always been his arch nemesis. It now complicated his life by adding a couple more events in between what he'd originally planned.

"Hey, Chandler!"

He turned around on hearing the familiar voice. "Hey, Pheebs." He smiled uncomfortably, glancing down at the paper in his hand. _Janice._ He wondered whether Janice would get going, leaving the two of them alone. But no. She stood there with a look of territorial possessiveness on her face, glaring at Phoebe lightly. She was obviously expecting an introduction.

He sighed audibly. "Pheebs, this is Janice. Janice, this is my friend, Phoebe."

The women smiled and shook hands, and Janice laughed her high-pitched laugh, during which Phoebe shot an amused look at Chandler. He shrugged helplessly.

"Anyway, I should get going, too." Janice patted Chandler's arm and smiled at Phoebe. "Nice to meet you, Phoebe." She turned towards Chandler again. "_Call me,_" she reminded him and left.

Phoebe nodded at the paper in his hand. "Phone number, huh? Nice."

He decided that throwing the paper away immediately, in front of Phoebe, would seem too brutal. So he pocketed it and turned towards Phoebe with pleading eyes. "Please don't tell anyone about this." He didn't know why, but by 'anyone', he meant Monica. He didn't want _Monica _to know about this.

"Why not?" Phoebe glanced at him curiously, moving along the aisle.

"Did you not hear the laugh?" he asked her incredulously.

Phoebe nodded, slowly, thoughtfully. "Yes, that was a strange little noise. Okay, I won't tell." She nodded her agreement. "Dinner is at 7, right?" she changed the topic abruptly.

He wondered whether she'd really grasped what he'd said, but assumed that she had. He nodded. "Yeah, seven."

"Ok, then. I've got a bit of shopping left to be done. You can leave if you are done." She waved him off dismissively.

He shrugged. "Fine, I'll see you at dinner." He moved towards the billing counter and paid for the wine. He left the store and threw the paper with Janice's phone number away.

~.~

"Y'know what beats me? Australopithecus had as much a chance at survival as Erectus, but it didn't survive. I mean, I know that Erectus didn't…"

Ross's voice faded away, and the only thing that Chandler could concentrate on was the feel of Monica's hand climbing dangerously high up his thigh. He placed his hand on top of hers to stop its ascent, weaving his fingers through hers, holding her hand tightly. He smiled at her discreetly, as she struggled to extricate her hand from his.

What beat _him _was why they hadn't started this no-strings-attached thing some three or four years back. He could have escaped all those years of fate imposed celibacy.

She stopped trying to remove her hand from his, after a few failed tries. Instead, she tightened her grip and kept their entwined hands still on his thigh. When he glanced at her, she smiled at him softly.

"But procreation and lineage maintenance _can _be tricky and complicated, yes," Ross continued, but was rudely interrupted by Phoebe.

"Wait a minute!" Phoebe exclaimed. "You had sex!"

Chandler's head snapped to see Phoebe pointing an accusative finger at Monica, Monica blushing wildly, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, and her brother looking at her with a mixture of disgust and curiosity.

Trust Joey to divert the topic. "Wow, so you're really psychic?" Joey asked his new friend, fascinated.

Phoebe looked at him nonplussed, and shook her head a second later. "No, it's not that. She's got a hickey!"

Monica looked down at where she'd pointed, as did the three men. A dark reddish mark, just below her collarbone, was peeking through her shirt.

"Uh…" she stuttered, her gaze momentarily landing on Chandler. "Phoebe, it's not a hickey. It's some… insect bite."

"That must have been one big insect." Phoebe raised an unbelieving eyebrow and shrugged. "Things are all changing. Monica is having sex again. And Chandler's getting phone numbers from the _ladies_." She winked at her friends and patted Monica on the back. "Way to go, Mon!"

The moment she said 'Chandler' and 'phone number', Monica's grip on his hand loosened. She looked at him with an expression that he was incapable of deciphering. It was a mixture of a whole lot of emotions, out of which he could only make out 'hurt'. She pulled her hand away from his slowly.

He glared at Phoebe and it took her a moment to realize what she'd done. She immediately covered her mouth with her palm and mumbled, "I am so sorry, Chandler, you didn't want me to tell."

Ross and Joey, intrigued, began to ask him questions, but his attention was completely focused on Monica, who got up and began to clear off the table abruptly.

He tried to get hold of her hand again, but she just shook her head and moved away from him.

He glanced at Phoebe, wondering whether he'd have to thank her for ruining the best thing that ever happened to him.

~.~

Phoebe and Ross left first, before which Phoebe apologized to him again. Then Joey left with a suggestive grin on his face, after Chandler told him that he was going to spend some time with Monica.

She had climbed out onto the balcony, as he'd closed the apartment door behind Joey. He followed her and entered the balcony, behind her. "Mon," he called out, but she stared down at the street resolutely, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Monica," he tried again in a futile attempt. He sighed. "_Turn around, bright eyes,_" he sang off-key, "_I need you now, tonight. I need you more-" _He stopped when she turned to glare at him. "You laid the ground rules, Monica," he said as she continued to glower at him. He sighed again. "I threw the number away."

Something changed in her expression, but she successfully regained her angry exterior. She stared down at the street again. "Why?"

The most truthful answer would have been '_Because of you,'_, but he didn't say that. "I don't know." He shrugged. "I didn't really feel like going out on a date with a woman I barely knew."

She nodded, looking at him again. She gazed into his eyes, moving closer. "It's already getting complicated, Chandler," she said quietly. Her voice held doubt, her eyes showed fear.

His own heart constricted with fear. Was she ending this? "I don't even remember her name, Mon," he whispered back, looking at her, feeling a sudden desperation to make her see that ending this would be a huge mistake.

"That's not the point, Chandler." She shook her head. "I don't think I can be _not _possessive, _not_ jealous." She looked at him uncertainly, her eyes bright and shiny with tears.

He was tempted to say 'then let's date', but for some unknown reason, it seemed harder. He searched his brain for a solution, and he found one a moment later. "Friends with benefits who are exclusive," he suggested.

She just stared at him. "What?"

"Let's be friends with benefits who are exclusive," he repeated, this time with more confidence.

She shook her head, smiling at him sympathetically. "Chandler, that's dating."

He shook his head in turn, rather vigorously. "No, it's not. It would still be a secret. We can still end it anytime we want. We won't really be going out on dates and I certainly won't be declaring my undying love for you, ever."

"Chandler…" she murmured, smiling at him, shaking her head again.

Before she could say anything more, he pulled her closer. His lips found hers in a deep, lingering kiss. He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. "Yeah, noses don't bump," he whispered, looking into her eyes.

She stood on her toes and reached for his lips again in a passionate kiss. He tightened his arms around her, holding her close to him.

They didn't realize that half the strings of their 'no strings attached' relationship were already strung together. She had no idea what they were getting themselves into.

But something that felt _this _right couldn't possibly go wrong. Or at least, they hoped so.

~.~.~

_A/N: I love Matthew Perry's nose ;)_


	6. Fall

_A/N: **Yeah, this is not a new chapter, just the old one. I'm currently on a vacation and I'm spending it with my sister at her place. I'd love to write something here, but I have a 3 year old niece, who doesn't really understand the concept of me doing something which she is not involved in :)  
><strong>_

_**So, sorry, guys! There won't be any updates from me until June.**_

_Oh, no, no more pregnancy fics from me. I mean, I have a great time writing 'Forever and a Day' (which I should try to complete sometime soon), but I don't think I'll be writing anymore pregnancy fics, even if I move on to other fandoms._

_ And, well, which Mondler fan doesn't love MP? ;D_

**If it's Love**

**Chapter 6**

**November 1993**

"It was a petting zoo for crying out loud!" Chandler exclaimed in exasperation as his three friends examined his peacock-bitten hand disapprovingly.

"Why did you even have to pet it in the first place?" Joey raised his eyebrows. "It's just a blue chicken."

"Well, for your information, they're beautiful, graceful creatures," Chandler mumbled, wondering why he was defending the thing that'd attacked him.

"Yeah," Monica nodded, stroking his hand. She stopped when he winced. "It's a beautiful, graceful creature which _bit _you."

"Dude, the next time I'm attending an audition at the Park, try and stick with a dog." When Joey watched his roommate's eyes widen with horror, he shook his head. "Or not."

Chandler's farcical life always made it possible to take away the limelight from what should have been another person's utterly humiliating life experience. Joey had auditioned for the role of _Pinocchio_, but here they all were, focusing on his peacock bite, while the grown man who'd just sang 'I've got no strings', wearing shorts, looked down at him condescendingly.

"Chandler, we have to take you to the hospital," Monica tugged his other hand, looking concerned.

"Yeah, what if you get rabies or something," Joey added, his own face mirroring Monica's concern.

"Oh, come on!" Ross looked at them with mild disinterest. "Rabies spreads only through mammals, not birds," he pointed at Chandler's hand. "At the most, it could have transmitted some bacterial infection." He shrugged nonchalantly. When the other three stared at him, looking pissed at his dismissive tone, he threw his hands up. "I'm sorry. Excuse me for making an educated comment."

"Nah, that's OK." Chandler shrugged in reply to Monica's statement. "The guy at the zoo applied some antibiotic, and said that it was just a graze and that the wound would heal in a couple of days."

"There you go!" Ross patted his back with a smug look. "Now that we've sorted this out, I guess I can go get me some coffee." He stood up, starting towards the counter. The bar had been converted into a coffeehouse, but it still hadn't lost its patrons in the five people.

"Ross, while you're at it, you may wanna get me a scone," Joey called out, turning towards Chandler again when Ross nodded. Before he said anything to Chandler, he turned towards Ross again. "Oh, and also a blackberry muffin. And, and an espresso. And also a-" he stopped abruptly when Ross glared at him. "Fine, I'll get it myself," he muttered as he stood up, moving towards the counter.

"You definitely don't wanna see a doctor?" Monica asked Chandler when they were alone.

"Yeah," Chandler nodded, smiling. "I feel so exotic."

"Exotic?" she looked at him skeptically.

"I got bitten by a _peacock_! I mean, that doesn't happen to everyone," he explained.

"Nope. It _definitely_ doesn't happen to everyone," she agreed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her face took on a concerned expression again. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded again. He turned to check whether Ross and Joey were anywhere near them and turned towards her again with a cheeky grin. "Nothing a little heavy breathing between the sheets wouldn't cure," he murmured.

"See?" she grinned back, moving closer to him as she leaned in. "Didn't I tell you you're getting good at the dirty talk?"

"Guys?"

They moved apart when they heard Joey's voice. Joey was the only person who knew about them. He'd had a sneaking suspicion right from the beginning, but he'd caught them red handed once, while they were making out in Apartment 19. After several days of coaxing, he'd finally agreed to keep it a secret.

"If you really want it to remain a secret, try not getting it on in the coffeehouse in front of your brother," he said as he took a sip of his espresso, sitting down next to Chandler.

Monica nodded, agreeing grudgingly. She turned to Chandler again and patted his thigh. "I'll see you tonight," she smiled and got up to leave. "Bye, Ross." She waved at her brother, and started towards the door.

"Mon, Mon, hold on for a sec," Ross called out, and went after his sister, taking his coffee with him. "Y'know, our parents' beach house…" he started to say as they went out the coffeehouse.

"So, how are things between you two?" Joey asked Chandler, watching the siblings as they left the building. "I don't think he's allowed to take the cup outside."

Chandler shrugged. "Things are just fine. It's not like we're in a relationship or anything." He fixed his gaze on the 'Central Perk' logo on the glass in the front.

Joey nodded slowly, thinking his statement through. "Are you sure?" he asked a second later, frowning.

Chandler turned to glare at him sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Joey held his hand up in defense. "I'm just asking, when was the last time you went out on a date?" When Chandler stared at him without replying, he continued. "Not once since I moved in." Joey shook his head. "You just don't spend this much time on something that's labelled 'friends with special privileges'. You know how I keep moving from one woman to another?"

"I do." Chandler nodded. "Our walls are pretty thin."

"Hey! I have to listen to you two going at it most of the nights, but you don't hear me complaining." He glared at Chandler. "Anyway, that's not the point," he continued. "The thing is, do you know what makes it easier for me to hop from one woman to another? I don't confuse sex with love."

"What makes you think I'm confusing sex with love?" Chandler countered, suddenly feeling agitated.

"I don't think you're. That's what worries me." With that, Joey stood up and left for the counter, leaving Chandler to stare at his back.

~.~

"Come on, Chandler," Phoebe whined down the phone line. "It's been a really long time since we all went out together."

He minimized the solitaire window in his office computer, so that he could concentrate on his conversation with Phoebe. This woman was a mystery to him. Just a few months back, she'd acted like she never wanted to meet anyone from the group (especially Monica), but now, here she was, pleading them all to join her on a vacation.

"Pheebs, I'd love to, but things are getting a little hectic for me here at the office," he told her truthfully. The solitaire was for a highly necessary break. "How about sometime during the Christmas holidays? We'd all be free then."

"So, you're telling me that you're _not _playing 'Minesweeper' right now."

"No, I am not!" he replied, offended, closing the solitaire window. "Man, I got bit by a peacock yesterday, and now, just 24 hours later, you're putting me through the third degree."

"One weekend is all-" she paused abruptly. "Wait, what? You got bit by a_ peacock_?_"  
><em>

"Chandler, Mr. Douglas wants to see you." Mrs. Tedlock nodded at him before she left.

He nodded back, rising from his chair. "Pheebs, I'll call you back. My boss wants to see me."

"Okay," Phoebe mumbled unhappily and hung up the phone.

He knocked on his boss's door and entered a second later, all the while wondering for what he'd been called. He sometimes wondered how he'd react if they fired him without any warning. It'd be quite a shock, but he also knew that that'd be the only way he'd search for another job that didn't actually suck his life away by simply boring him. "Sir, you wanted to see me?" he greeted Mr. Douglas.

"Yes, yes." His boss nodded, looking preoccupied. "Take a seat."

"How's it going, sir?" he asked, his fingers twisting the paper on the desk.

Mr. Douglas pulled it back from his grasp discreetly as he shook his head. "It's been better. I haven't seen the ANUS take a hit like this since I took this job."

People gave him weird looks when he used terms like WENUS and ANUS outside his office. For that matter, WENUS was a constantly used bedroom-term between him and Monica, but he knew the seriousness of the term when it came to his work. "How bad?" he found himself asking.

"Well, we're gonna have to lay off a few people," Mr. Douglas shrugged.

His heart skipped a beat as he found himself staring at his boss, his mouth suddenly dry. The sense of freedom was looming somewhere in the background, but fear was the dominating force in his mind.

"Don't look so scared, it's not you."

His shoulders slumped, but he didn't know whether it was from relief or from dejection. "Oh, then who?"

"A few from every department," Mr. Douglas waved his hand dismissively. "That's not what I wanted to talk to you about. Bing, will you be willing to move to a different branch?"

No, he wouldn't be, but for the sake of politeness, he asked, "Where to?"

"London."

Chandler's eyes widened. "We have a branch in London?"

Mr. Douglas chuckled. "Yeah, we do." He nodded and continued in a serious tone. "It's our main branch in Europe and I'm getting pressure from above to transfer one of our good guys over to them. You're the best we've got."

Chandler nodded, grinning. "I'm really very, _very_ flattered, sir, but I think I'll pass."

"I know it's a different country and all, but Chandler, they're also offering a 40% increase on your salary."

Chandler could feel his pulse quicken. He earned nearly $70,000 a year as it is, and a 40% hike would mean almost a hundred grand. He'd always hated his job, but if he was ever looking for an opportunity to make some money out of it, it was this. In spite of what his brain was screaming, he found himself shaking his head emphatically. "I'm really flattered, Mr. Douglas," he repeated, "but I'm going to have to decline your offer."

His boss sighed, looking disappointed. "May I know the reason?"

_Monica._ Monica was the only reason. And he'd just sworn to Joey the previous evening that they weren't in a relationship. She'd been right all along, though. It was getting complicated.

"It's really complicated, sir," he struggled to explain. "I have a few commitments here…" he trailed off uncomfortably.

His boss shrugged. "It's your call, but if I were you, I'd take the job."

Chandler nodded and rose to leave.

"Chandler, if by some chance you change your mind, they'd be glad to have you in London."

"I'll keep that in mind, sir," he smiled and left Mr. Douglas's room.

~.~

"Monica!" he yelled as he entered her apartment. With each passing minute after his meeting with his boss, the urge to see her had increased slowly. "Mon!"

"I'm in here," she called out from the bathroom.

He knocked on the door once, and entered to find her in the bathtub filled with bubbles. He sat on the edge of the bathtub, stroking her hair.

"Hard day?" she enquired softly, reaching for his hand.

He wondered whether he should tell her about his conversation with Mr. Douglas, but decided against it. He grinned instead, nodding. "Yeah, I was hard all day."

She giggled. "You really _are _getting good at the dirty talk." He yelped in surprise when she tugged his hand and succeeded in pulling him into the tub. Water splashed onto the floor, but neither cared.

His shirt and pant completely soaked, he sat up a little to get his tie, shoes and socks off. When she pulled him back, he moved on top of her again, kissing her lips lightly. "See, now you're making me all wet," he murmured, complaining playfully.

"Well, that goes either way," she whispered back, arching her eyebrow.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're pretty good at the dirty talk, too, babe." He leaned in to kiss her again. She parted her lips invitingly. They kissed until he felt her undo the buttons on his shirt. "You know, a bigger bathtub would be far more comfortable," he mumbled against her lips.

"Oh, if you're not comfortable, we could stop." She pulled her hands away.

"Oh, no, no," he shook his head. "I never said _that_," he finished by kissing her again, undoing his pant himself, while she continued working on his shirt again.

His wet clothes finally discarded, he framed her face as he kissed her, the stroke of his tongue slow and hard against hers. He pulled back breathless, leaning his forehead against hers. "God, I missed you."

Words slip out when your mind goes into a whirl. He realized it now as he held his breath, waiting for her reaction. They'd never once uttered the words 'I missed you' to each other. It'd always felt more like a 'relationship' thing to say, and their 'relationship' was anything but. At least on paper.

She hooked her arms around his neck and nodded. "I missed you, too."

He captured her lips again, releasing the breath he'd not realized he'd been holding. He closed his eyes in concentration as he started to thrust forward. They sighed in satisfaction as they became one.

It never failed to amaze him that he was allowed to do this with Monica.

Writhing together, trying to fulfill their most basic need, which he strongly suspected was no longer just sex, they moved together slowly, their rhythm matched by the water lapping around them.

Her eyes closed shut, she frowned, holding his shoulders tightly, like she was in pain.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, brushing his knuckles against her cheek.

She nodded slowly, her eyes fluttering open to hold his gaze. "I'm so happy I could die," she said softly, her voice barely a whisper.

In that moment, he knew he was in love.

Blood pounded in his ears as he nodded back, "Me, too." He closed his eyes, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "Me, too."

Just whenever he thought he'd finally be happy, fate had this nasty habit of complicating his life.

_I certainly won't be declaring my undying love for you._

His own words flashed in his brain. He knew that that'd be one promise he'd be breaking sometime very soon.

They were too young. She wasn't supposed to make him feel this way. She wasn't supposed to make his heart beat fast. They'd failed to lay a rule about this. They'd failed to discuss what would happen if it's love.

"Chandler..." she murmured, pulling him into reality just when he felt like he was drowning. When he pulled back to look at her, she sought his lips in a slow, soft kiss, keeping their lips locked as they slowly drifted towards the pinnacle of their lovemaking.

Granted, they were young. But who was he to judge fate?

~.~.~

_A/N: You know what amazes me? It's been like 8 years since the final episode aired, but there are still people out there, who keep returning to 'Friends'. What's even better, there are so many faithful Mondler fans, who still take the time out to read what people like me write. Thank you for those fantastic reviews, guys! If not for you people, I'd have lost my motivation to write, ages ago. __**Thank you **__:D_


	7. When It Rains

_A/N: Thank you, thank you and yeah, **thank you! **__You guys never fail to amaze me :)_

_Thank you for the phenomenal response to my humble attempt at fanfiction. Your reviews not only made my day, they made my month :D _

_Here's the next chapter. I hope you'll like it as much as the last one._

_My next update will be the final chapter of 'Forever and a Day', and you can expect it by this weekend._

**If it's Love**

**Chapter 7**

**February 1994**

"Guess who got promoted?" Monica entered her apartment, practically beaming. All, except Ross, were present.

"Ooh, ooh!" Phoebe exclaimed as Chandler and Joey exchanged a wary glance. "Is it your friend Hillary?"

"No..." Monica shook her head, waiting patiently for Phoebe to finish her 'guessing' routine.

"Oh," Phoebe frowned, "is it that hot guy Gerard?"

"Pheebs, I think we should let Monica contin-" Joey started to say, but was cut-off by Phoebe, halfway through.

"Oh, I know, I know! That guy with the hairpiece!" she exclaimed, the glare that Monica directed at her going unnoticed. "Wait, what's his name? Yeah, Ryan!"

From the look on Monica's face, Chandler knew that there was a major threat to Phoebe's life. To prevent things from turning into a bloody affair, he stood up and wrapped his arms around Monica. "Congratulations, Mon!"

"Oh, it's you," Phoebe commented, disappointed, but this time, she was quick to notice that her good friend looked like she might kill her any moment now. "Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed with much more enthusiasm, and joined the hug. "Congratulations!"

Her happy exterior returning, Monica smiled widely. "Yeah, I'm the new head lunch chef. Look, they even gave me a beeper!" She extracted a beeper from her purse and showed it to her friends proudly.

"Oh, cool! Show me," Joey said as he borrowed it from her. "Man, I've gotta get one of these."

"And I'm in charge of purchasing," continued Monica, "and I even have my own little desk."

"I'm so proud of you," Chandler murmured, kissing the side of her head. When Phoebe shot him a suspicious glance, he extricated himself from Monica quickly. "I... uh, y'know, I mean, as a friend. I'm really proud of you as a friend." He patted Monica's arm awkwardly and returned to his seat.

Phoebe's frown cleared slowly, and she hugged Monica again. "I'm really happy for you," she smiled, and pulled back. "I've gotta get going, though. I have a date."

"Really? With whom?" Monica asked.

"This guy I met on the subway. Usually, I don't date guys I meet on the subway," she shrugged, "but, y'know, it's Valentine's Day. So I thought, why not?"

"Good for you, Pheebs," Monica smiled.

"Yeah," Phoebe frowned again, looking worried. "Are you going to be okay, though? I mean, you're going to be alone on _Valentine's Day_."

"Nah, I'll be fine," Monica waved it off. "Besides, I have Chandler for company." She smiled at Chandler, her eyebrow raised suggestively.

"Oh, yeah, that's correct," Joey nodded, raising his own eyebrows, earning an unamused look from Monica and Chandler.

"Okay then." Phoebe smiled again. "Once again, congratulations, Mon." She went to the door and waved at the three of them before letting herself out.

"So, you have Chandler for company?" Joey smirked at Monica. "You sure you don't want _my _company?"

"I'm sure," Monica nodded, watching Joey as he shrunk back into his chair on noticing the look on Chandler's face. "Besides, how could Joey Tribbiani possibly be dateless on Valentine's Day?"

Joey shrugged. "Remember that 'Days of Our Lives' audition I was talking about? That's tomorrow."

"Oh, good luck. You have some practicing to do, huh?" Monica asked.

"Yeah." Joey nodded. "Dr. Drake Ramoray is scheduled to perform a biopsy tomorrow," he smiled. When the other two nodded appreciatively, he continued, "Man, it's going to be weird. I'm gonna have to pretend like I'm slicing up some dead guy," he shuddered, with a look of disgust on his face.

"That's autopsy, Joe," Chandler explained patiently. "I don't think they'll appreciate it very much if you slice up some guy during a biopsy." He turned to Monica. "I thank the Lord everyday that Joey is not a real doctor."

Monica nodded in agreement.

"Oh," Joey's brows furrowed in confusion. "Then what's a biopsy?"

"Read your script, Joey." Monica patted his knee. "I think you'll be fine."

"Yeah, ok. Besides, I've gotta let you two get to your Valentine's Day celebration." He got up from his seat and went the door. He stopped abruptly after a few paces, and turned to look at the couple again. "When are you two going to tell the others about your relationship, again?"

"What?" they asked him simultaneously.

"'Cause if you two don't, then I am gonna. Tribbianis are not good with secrets, and _this_ has been going on for a year now." He glared at them. "My head will explode if I have to keep it in any longer."

"Joey," Monica got up from her seat with patronizing smile, and placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. "First of all, _this _is _not _a relationship. Second of all, it's only been eleven months." She removed her hand from his shoulder, the smile vanishing from her lips. "And unless you want to be castrated, or lobotomized," her gaze hardened, "keep this a secret."

Joey didn't know what those words meant, but he sure as hell didn't like the sound of them. By now, he knew Monica well enough to know that she seldom welched on her promises.

"Castration or secret, Joe?" Monica prompted again.

From the eleven months of interactions, he'd also learned that Monica can be really scary if she wanted to be. "Secret," he replied meekly.

Her smile returned. She patted his head maternally. "Good choice."

Joey went out the door quietly. And when Monica turned towards the living room, she was faced with a very scared-looking Chandler. "What?" she asked innocently, making her way back to the living room, claiming a seat on his lap.

"Lobotomy or castration? You're easily the scariest woman I've ever met," he told her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"You know I'd never do any such thing," she pecked him on the lips. "I'm the gentlest woman you could ever meet."

"Well, you had no problem with amputating my toe." He glanced down at his right foot, pointedly.

She chuckled, shaking her head. "You _know_ that was totally unintentional-"

"That's what _you _say."

"And I've made up for it innumerable times in the last eleven months. _And _I would never, ever perform lobotomy or castration on you." She smiled and leaned in to kiss him again, hooking her arms around his neck. She pulled back a moment later, looking thoughtful. "I _could_ perform lobotomy on you and make you my personal sex slave."

"I already am your personal sex slave." With his hand on her nape, he brought her lips to his again. "Happy Valentine's day."

"Happy Valentine's," she smiled as she met his lips in a lingering kiss.

He pulled away slowly, his fingers playing with her shirt collar. "Hey, we could move this to the balcony, y'know, to celebrate the spirit of St. Valentine's." He cocked an eyebrow questioningly.

"Balcony?" She pulled back to look at him, frowning.

"Yeah," he shrugged sheepishly. "It's kinda my ultimate fantasy."

"Having sex on the balcony is your ultimate fantasy," she confirmed skeptically.

"You don't know! It could be nice!" he defended.

"Sweetie, it's freezing out there. I don't think you'll be able to, y'know... do it," she explained, trying hard not to laugh out loud at his weird idea. "Besides, for all we know, the cute, naked guy could be spying on us."

"I've been looking at that guy lately, and he's anything but cute," he argued, missing the point.

"Okay, so he's not cute anymore, but he could still spy on us," she rationalized. "Do you really want some voyeuristic ugly, naked guy to spy on us?"

"We could do it under a blanket," he murmured, kissing her gently. "Besides, it could be romantic under the moonlight."

The kisses were getting steamier, and her resolve was slowly melting into a puddle of goo, but she pulled away from him reluctantly. "Chandler, I'm on my period."

This was the last response he had expected. "Uh... wha- what?"

"I'm on my period," she repeated.

"Oh," he said thoughtfully, counting by touching the tips of his fingers to one another, and nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's right."

"You know my menstrual cycle?" She looked at him weirdly. "I don't know whether that's sweet or... creepy."

"Nah," he laughed. "Joey and I keep count to escape your PMS induced crabbiness."

"It's still creepy."

"Trust me, it's very sweet," he nodded and kissed her again. "So I guess it's gonna be a night of rest for Mr. Big."

"Yeah," she nodded, looking into the distance, distractedly.

"What?"

"Nothing," she shrugged, her fingers rising to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt. "It's just, you could sleep with me here tonight, if you want."

"Like, stay over?" he asked, the pace of his pulse quickening. "But, we don't do that."

"I know," she nodded, not knowing he was feeling the same way she did at that moment. "Just for tonight?" she asked tentatively, the nervousness in her voice unmistakable.

Hope reared its head. He wanted to blurt out 'I love you', but he kept quiet, gazing at her. He forced himself to regain his composure. "Just for tonight, huh?" he tilted his head to one side, smiling at her. "Now where have I heard that before?"

She giggled, pushing his back against the chair as she leaned in to kiss him, making him momentarily forget his reality.

A small part of his brain reminded him, though. _Hope, they say, is a fool's dream._

~.~

He slipped in beside her later that night, pulling her closer to him, spooning her.

"Oh, good, you're here," she murmured sleepily, turning around in his arms. "I missed you," she whispered, her breath tickling his chin.

"Hmm," he sighed contently, brushing his lips against her earlobe. "What would you do without me?" he asked, putting a slight spin on her usual rhetorical question.

"Ditto, Chandler," she chuckled, burying her head in the crook of his neck. She breathed in slowly, and spoke again. "Honestly, I don't know. I guess you're my knight in shining... sweater vest."

He laughed lightly. "And you're the peanut butter to my jelly."

She slid up a few inches on the bed, to his level. "You're the best thing in my life," she told him honestly, feeling more vulnerable than she had ever felt in her life before.

He stared back at her for a moment, but nodded slowly. "Ditto, Mon," he whispered back, all pretense of humor gone.

She pressed her ear to his chest, feeling his heart hammer against her cheek. "Goodnight, Chandler."

"Goodnight, Monica."

She loved the way his tongue caressed her name. She loved that his arms hugged her to him tightly, like he was protecting her from a monster under the bed. She loved how he always leaned in to kiss her first, before she could stand on her toes to kiss him.

Things were changing slowly, but definitely. She could sense it, she could _feel _it, and yet, she could do nothing about it. She just didn't know whether they were changing for better or for worse.

~.~

"Yes, it's a malignant tumor, Dr. Carey. We'll have to amputate the leg before the tumor metastasizes."

"Whoa, whoa! Amputate the leg! Who's the poor guy?" Chandler asked Joey as he entered his apartment the next morning.

Joey had been practicing a scene in front of a video camera. He switched it off and turned to look at his friend. "Actually, it's a girl. Robin." He watched as Chandler retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge. "So, how did the celebration go? Had a long, hot night of _passionate _lovemaking?"

"You really don't read my mother's books?"

"No..." Joey shook his head, looking defensive.

Chandler stared at him, unbelieving, but replied eventually. "No, not a long night of passionate lovemaking. Just a pleasant night of sleeping together. Literally."

Joey frowned, but his brow cleared a second later. "Oh, yeah, it's her time of the month."

Chandler shrugged, proceeding to take a sip of his water.

"Hey, have you told your girlfriend that you're in love with her?"

The water came out of his nostrils. He coughed, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand, until his cough subsided. "What?" he asked incredulously.

Were his emotions so transparent? If they were, how could Joey figure it out, despite not being the brightest crayon in the box, while Monica couldn't? Or was she choosing not to?

"Dude, it's been eleven months. You're now practically married to this woman."

"Joey," he took a deep breath to calm himself. "Do you, maybe, sometimes feel that I'm an adult who's capable of taking care of his own life, without other interfering in it?"

Joey thought this over for a moment, and shook his head, "No."

"Oh," Chandler nodded, making his way to his room. "That's funny, 'cause sometimes I feel that I should have chosen the 'ferrets' guy instead," he muttered, opening the door to his room.

"Ok, look," Joey spoke again, raising his hands as a gesture of peace.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I may have been a little out of line," he said, still holding his hands up.

Chandler seemed to relax a bit. "Yeah, that's ok."

Joey lowered his hands slowly. "But you may wanna tell her before she finds herself a new boyfriend."

"Alright, that's it." Chandler closed the bedroom door back again, slamming it shut. His hands on his hips, he glowered at Joey. "Castration or lobotomy?"

~.~

Once Chandler explained what those words meant, Joey had chosen to keep his mouth shut, promising never to speak about the things between his two friends.

Chandler stepped out of his office building that evening, glancing up at the sky. Uncharacteristic of February, the lowering evening sky appeared ominous with dark, moisture-laden clouds blotting out the sunlight. "Freezing cold, and rain. Perfect," he muttered to himself, pulling his coat closer around him.

Fifteen blocks to the subway, but he wasn't sure whether he'd make it there before it started to rain. Maybe if he walked a little faster.

Monica would be home by now, and there was nothing more he wanted than to lay down next to her under a blanket, the warmth of her body lulling him to sleep, given how perfect the cool, rainy night would be for a night in.

He picked up his pace when it started to drizzle, wondering whether he should take a cab. Closing his eyes for a moment when the raindrops hit his face, he bumped into another man coming from the opposite direction. He grunted from the force of the collision, and gasped out, "Sorry, I'm so sorr-" His mouth, however, failed to do its function, once he opened his eyes.

"Hey, Chandler."

This was the face he had thought and hoped he would never see in his life again. Funny, the things that life threw at him.

An instinctive possessiveness over Monica overtook his senses. If she'd been there with him, he would have pulled her tightly against him, never to let go.

"Kip."

In that second, he decided that tonight will be the night he'd tell Monica that he loved her.

~.~.~

_A/N: So, that's the end of the story. Thank you for putting up with me for so long. I hope you guys liked the end..._

_**Bazinga! **(I've always wanted do that!)_

_No, I'm just kidding :D _

_This is not the end. I still have plans for 2-3 chapters. I was actually gonna write a more conclusive end for this chapter, but I figured that you people might like a cliffhanger even better ;)_

_What the hell is Kip doing here? Will Chandler get to tell Monica how he feels? Or worse, is he going to London?_

_Review and find out! :)_


	8. Make You Feel My Love

_A/N: I was going to write 'That Thing Called Love', I really was, but this ff drew me like a moth to a flame, and who am I to deny my muse?_

_This chapter is my homage to the ever-beautiful song 'Make You Feel My Love', and, of course, to the song that this fic is a namesake of - 'If it's Love'._

_(I'm sorry I scared you guys with my Bazinga moment in the previous chapter... ;))_

**If it's Love**

**Chapter 8**

Ever since the first time he slept with Monica, Chandler had remained happily oblivious to Kip's existence in this world, until this day.

Tall, blonde, muscular, and blue-eyed – Kip was everything that he wasn't. Not that he considered himself hideous looking. No, he knew he was relatively handsome. But he was not the real-life Ken. Kip was the real-life Ken.

But then, that was his thing - Attractive roommates.

To him, Kip's good looks didn't take on any significance until Kip started going out with Monica. It made him even more insecure when this thing between him and Monica started, but Monica gave him no reason to feel so. After all, why would you feel insecure in something that wasn't even a relationship?

Chandler climbed up the stairs to his apartment slowly, ambivalence filling him. He didn't know what to think of his unexpected meeting with Kip. He didn't know what to do with what Kip had told him.

Although he had promised himself earlier that he'd tell Monica tonight as to how he felt, he was having second thoughts now.

He didn't know whether he should tell her that he loved her, but there was one thing that scared him the most - he didn't know whether she would say it back.

He was used to being rejected by women, but with Monica, it would be different. If she rejected him, he'd fall into a endless, dark abyss, with no hope of returning to the surface.

He reached their floor and tried Monica's door, frowning when he found it locked. Why wasn't she home yet?

The rain was pounding now, and he could hear a very long and loud clap of thunder.

Suddenly worried, he ran over to his apartment, opening the door to find Joey standing near the window, observing the rain. "Hey, Joe, did you see Monica? Has she returned from work?" he asked, holding the door open as he stood at the threshold.

"No," Joey frowned, shaking his head. "I thought she was already home. She's not here yet? God, it's horrible out there!" he pointed out the window, moving towards Chandler, concerned. "I'll- I'll call up the restaurant and ask. Why don't you go downstairs and see?"

"Ok," Chandler nodded, hurrying out the door. By the time Joey turned to remind him to take an umbrella, he was gone.

~.~

Raindrops hit the front steps of the building and spattered from it. He pulled his coat closer to his body, pulling up the collar around his neck.

He kept glancing back to see whether Joey was coming to let him know that Monica was still at work. He hoped she was still at work, rather than having been caught in this nasty rain.

A bolt of lightning struck the ground, and he covered his ears, anticipating the thunder that was sure to follow. He closed his eyes, remembering the one rainy night they'd spent together in the very beginning. _May_, he told himself, _that night in May._

That was the first night she had sneaked into his apartment. He remembered that she had snuggled close to him, saying that she couldn't sleep. _I've seen too many horror films to know that no good comes out of thunder and rain storm, _she had told him, smiling, embarrassed. He remembered that weird, fluttery feeling in his heart when she had kissed his cheek, telling him that she was glad that he was there next to her.

He now knew what that feeling was.

He opened his eyes, glancing at the street. This time though, he could see a lone figure walking slowly in his direction, unmindful of the torrential rain. It took him a few seconds to realize that it was indeed Monica.

With no umbrella, she kept walking slowly, her wet clothes clinging to her body.

He knew she hadn't seen him. Frowning, he ran towards her in the rain, cursing himself for not having the presence of mind to bring an umbrella. "Mon?" he grasped her shoulder, pulling her with him as he started to jog towards their building. "Monica, you'll catch your death out here! Why- why are you even in the rain? Walk faster!"

She faced him, her eyes red-rimmed. "I got fired, Chandler," she said softly, her voice catching in her throat.

"What?" he asked, shocked, stopping still in his rapid walk.

"They fired me for taking kickback," her voice broke. "I never took a kickback," she shook her head, burying her face in his chest, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

He stood still, trying to take in what she was saying. They'd fired her? But she'd gotten promoted just the previous day! Another thunder reminded him where they were, and he gently squeezed her arm, urging her to start walking again. "Let's get you out of this rain first," he said softly. "It will be okay, Mon. I promise."

"No!" she pulled herself from his grasp, her voice rising an octave. "No, Chandler! It is not okay. It will _not _be okay! I don't have a job. I don't have a roommate. I have _no_ idea how I'm going to afford this place now. I got fired for taking a _kickback_, and god knows how long it will be before I find another job! I was the head lunch chef yesterday, and now..." she trailed off, her voice softening, her fingers wiping the tears running down her cheeks. "Now, I'm nothing. Nothing."

Her sudden outburst surprising him, he stood rooted to the spot for a few seconds.

"I didn't even take any kickback, Chandler," she repeated, her voice fragile and quivering. "It was a gift from the meat vendor. Just a steak."

_Steak? The steak that she had brought home a couple of days back? _

This was new to him. This was all new to him. He sucked at consoling people. So much so that the one time he had tried consoling her had led him to fall in love with her. He stared at her, not knowing what to say, watching her tears mingle with the raindrops.

But this was Monica, _his _Monica.

"Oh, honey," he sighed, moving closer, wrapping his arms around her again when she didn't protest. "You'll get through this, Mon. You'll find another job, you're an _amazing_ chef," he stroked arm, pulling her closer to him. "And you know I'll always be there for you," he whispered into her wet hair.

The cold was getting to him and his teeth were beginning to chatter, but he held her trembling body close to his own, hoping he was providing her with some warmth.

She nodded slowly, eventually, "I know." She pulled away from him slightly, wiping at her tears. "Let's go home."

~.~

"Oh, my god!" Joey exclaimed on seeing a completely soaked Monica and Chandler enter the apartment. "What the hell happened?"

Monica simply shook her head, pulling herself from Chandler's embrace, leaving for his bedroom.

Joey stared at her back before turning to face Chandler, taking in his drenched clothes and tired face. The retaurant hadn't attended his call, and he had no idea what had happened between Chandler and Monica, but at that moment, like the many others in the past few months, he just wanted to pull the both in front of him and tell them to quit playing this twisted, little game.

How could Chandler still not have told her? How could _she _still not have realized it?

Joey sighed, stroking his forehead. "I know I promised not to talk about this again," he looked up at him. "But just _tell _her, Chandler," he pleaded. "I like you guys a lot. I really do. And the last thing I want is for either of you to get hurt." He came forward, placing a hand on Chandler's arm. "I'm sure she feels the same way about you. I can see it from the way she looks at you. Just tell her that you love her."

Chandler stared ahead at his closed bedroom door, remaining silent. He no longer possessed the strength to deny it. He felt weak, defeated. "She just lost her job, Joe," he said finally, a sense of hopelessness filling him.

"Oh," Joey's shoulders slumped. This indeed was no moment for professing love.

Chandler removed his wet coat and dropped it to the floor, the damp garment landing heavily on the ground. "I should be with her now," he murmured, pointing at his bedroom.

"Yeah," Joey nodded, moving away. "Ok."

He entered his bedroom to find Monica curled up on his bed, tears seeping through her closed eyelids. He went to his closet, grabbing two of his t-shirts and boxers before he turned to her. "Mon, change into this," he patted her shoulder and extended a pair towards her.

"I called my parents last night to tell them I got promoted," she mumbled into the pillow, without turning to face him.

He placed the clothes on the bed and sat down beside her. "It's just a job, Monica. You'll find another one."

"What will I tell my parents now, Chandler?" She sat up slowly, pulling the t-shirt towards her. "What will I tell my mother?"

He remained silent.

"It took me three years to get here, you know?" she said quietly, peeling off her wet clothes.

"I know," he nodded, removing his own shirt. "But you have _us_. I'm sure you'll find another job soon, and until then, if you have need any help at all, we're all here for you," he said earnestly. "Come here," he murmured, pulling her to him. "You'll have me. You'll _always_ have me."

'Always' was a promise. She knew that. It was a huge promise, and the fact that he was willing to make that promise for her, scared her and made her heart beat fast, all at once.

She placed her hand on his nape and pressed her lips hard against his, her kiss clumsy and urgent.

He was surprised by her sudden move, but responded nonetheless.

Her breath was beginning to quicken. She trailed kisses along his neck and shoulder as she moved his hand from her waist to her back, placing it on her bra clasp. Her lips returning to his, she nibbled on his lower lip, begging for entrance.

He could sense a desperation in her kisses that hadn't been there since their first night together. She wanted to ease her sadness, her pain.

He slowed the kiss down and moved his hand to her cheek, brushing his fingertips against her skin. When he pulled away from her, she held his shoulders tightly.

"I need this, Chandler," she whispered weakly as he stroked her hair. "Please..."

"Aren't you on your period, Mon?" he reminded her softly.

She wanted to laugh. He remembered, but she had forgotten it until this moment. "Yeah," she nodded, moving away from him. "I forgot," she smiled wryly, tears springing back to her eyes. "Today is just not my day, is it?" she sniffed slightly, pulling on the t-shirt that he had given her.

He pulled on his own, his brain telling him that there was only one thing that might cheer her up. With much apprehension, he started reluctantly. "I ran into Kip today."

She looked at him like he had slapped her in the face.

Watching the color drain from her cheeks, he continued slowly. "He and Julia have split up."

He had expected this piece of information to cheer her up, but he was surprised when her expression turned even gloomier.

He didn't say the rest of what Kip had told him.

_It just didn't work out, y'know? I should never have let Monica go. I think about her everyday, Chandler. I made a mistake, a really huge mistake._

His heart burned when he even imagined Kip thinking about Monica. Kip had had his chance with her, but he screwed it all up. He no longer possessed the right to even think about her.

She was his now. She was his alone.

"It all seems so futile," she said after several seconds of silence.

"What?"

"Life," she sighed. "Love." She tilted her head to one side, tears glistening in her eyes. "There are no happy endings, are there?"

"Mon, don't say that," he pulled her into a hug, kissing her hair.

"I thought he left me because he was in love with this woman," she murmured against his shoulder. "I thought he had found love, Chandler, but it's not even been a year and they've already separated?" She tightened her arms around his neck. "What happened to _love_, Chandler?"

He closed his eyes tightly when tears stung them, trying hard to slow his breathing. He felt like his heart might explode.

"I don't know, Mon," he lied finally. He wanted to motion between them and say '_this _happened', but he didn't. He lied, "I don't know."

"Me neither," she shook her head, oblivious to the fact that she was breaking his heart. She pulled back in his arms, her glassy eyes meeting his. "Can you just hold me?" she asked him, her voice soft and childlike.

He nodded as he lay down, pulling her with him. "Anything, Mon," he murmured when she placed her head on his chest. "Anything for you."

_Anything to make you feel my love._

_~.~.~_

_A/N: Don't know why, but I enjoyed writing this chapter so very much..._

_My thanks to all those who reviewed the last chapter - Amelia Lauren, Matteney, Mia Fitzpatrick, Veridissima, ScandalousScavos (I've been meaning to thank you for quite some time now, but I wasn't able to pm you... anyway, thank you, I'm glad you like the way I write C&M :D), MatTeneyMoNdlerLoVer, RandomNews3, Shyfighter, and guests (1-6). I appreciate each and every kind word of encouragement :)  
><em>

_And Monica – very few people review each and every chapter in a fic, when the story has already progressed to about 7 chapters. Thank you, I'm happy you're enjoying the story and I really appreciate you taking the time to say so :)_

_The next chapter is all written and ready to be posted, but I haven't proofread it yet. I wanted this and the following chapter to be a single part, but then it became too long._

_You will find another 'If it's Love' update in a day or two. In the meanwhile, you know what to do (Hint: Review :))._


	9. Total Eclipse of the Heart

_A/N: MatTeneyMoNdlerLoVer, Ghee Buttersnaps15, Monica, Shyfighter, RandomNews3, Emily J, ScandalousScavos, regina-phalange29, dancer cherrybug, viciousboar, Wicked-Little-Heart, Stephy-Lou Clark-Weasley, matteney, and Amelia Lauren - Thank you for all those wonderful, wonderful reviews! :)_

_Yes, rain tends romanticize reality (however harsh it might be), and that's what makes it so beautiful...  
><em>

_I'm sorry, I guess I should have mentioned this in the previous chapter - In the last chapter, I was drawing a huge parallel to the season 2 episode -'TOW Five Steaks and an Eggplant', where Monica gets fired for the same reason. No, she wasn't framed for something that she didn't do. She just didn't know that what she considered to be a "gift" was actually a kickback according to her restaurant's policy._

_Here's the 9th chapter, just as I promised :)_

**If it's Love**

**Chapter 9**

Four days later, Monica had returned to her normal self.

Phoebe had told some massage client of hers, who was looking for a chef for his restaurant, about Monica, and she was scheduled to meet him on the coming Monday.

_It's kinda like an audition, and I really, really want to do well, _she had told Chandler, the previous night.

Now they all were in Monica's living room, except for Monica, who was in the kitchen.

The guys intently watched Phoebe's head bob up and down as she sat half-asleep on the couch. She suddenly snapped out of it, scaring them all in an instant. "Sorry, sorry," she apologized for freaking them out.

"Pheebs, why are you so tired?" Ross asked curiously.

"I didn't get any sleep last night," she mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Ooh..." Joey nodded appreciatively. "Did it finally happen with James?"

"No," she shook her head. "I walked in on my grandmother and her boyfriend having sex."

The three men made a look of disgust. "That must not have been a pleasant sight," Ross looked at her sympathetically.

"It was like watching that scene from 'Don't Look Now', only imagine Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie being much older and much louder."

Chandler frowned, shaking his head. "Something tells me that that's not a mental image I'd enjoy very much."

"And now you know why I didn't get any sleep last night," Phoebe retorted before closing her eyes again.

"Chandler?" Monica called out for him from the kitchen. "Could you come here for a second?"

"Yeah," he nodded, getting off his seat, and went to her.

She glanced at the other three to make sure they weren't paying attention to their conversation, before turning to Chandler. "I'm going away to my parents' beach house this weekend."

"Oh," he sighed, disappointed.

He had been waiting for the perfect moment to tell her how he felt, but that moment constantly eluded him for some reason. Maybe it was his own fear that kept him from telling her, but the fear of letting her go without ever telling her that he loved her – that was too hard to bear any longer.

He wanted to tell her before it was too late.

"Yeah, they apparently feel _sorry _for me since I lost my job. Maybe Ross spoke to them, I don't know," she shrugged. "But they've given me the keys to the beach house so that I can stay there this weekend," she glanced again at the living room before she continued. "I was wondering, can you come with me?" she asked him, smiling at him uncertainly. "I really don't want to be alone," she shook her head. Moving closer to him, she touched his cheek tentatively. "I- I don't..." she fumbled with her words, her cheeks turning light pink. "I don't want to be away from you."

_I don't want to be away from you._

He played her words back in his brain, feeling his pulse quicken.

"Yeah, I think I can do that," he smiled back slowly, feeling a glimmer of hope inside of him. "I don't want be away from you either."

She grinned, relieved. "You could just tell the others that you have a conference or something."

"Conference or something," he nodded in agreement, linking his fingers with hers briefly.

Two days away from everyone, alone together. It was perfect.

He had finally figured out when and where he would tell her that he loved her. He just needed to know _how_.

~.~

The cab had dropped them off at the main road. She entwined her hand with his as they walked towards the beach house, both of them observing the bright orange sun descending into the sea.

"God, it's so beautiful out here," he murmured, stopping in his tracks as he hitched their only bag over his shoulder more firmly.

"I know," she nodded. "You should see the sunrise. It's breathtaking." She rested her head on his shoulder as they stood there for a few seconds. "Hey, maybe we can come out here early tomorrow morning," she smiled at him.

"Yeah," he replied distractedly. "Maybe."

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes," he nodded, turning to look at her, smiling. "Why wouldn't I be?" he pressed his lips against the side of her head.

"Let's go," she tugged his hand as they started walking again.

The beach house looked beautiful and new. Several pots of flowers everywhere outside, the house was a shiny, immaculate vision in white.

"Wow, your parents really went all out on this one." He entered the house, taking in the glass doors and chrome decor, in awe. "I didn't know you Gellers were _this _wealthy!" he exclaimed, dropping the bag to the floor, plonking himself on the incredibly comfortable couch.

"They used my wedding fund on this house, Chandler," she said, her lips curving into a humorless smile.

"Really?" he asked, shocked.

She nodded. "Ross told me."

"No wonder you hate your parents," he commented, pulling her to him.

"I don't hate them," she shook her head. "I just- I... Ah!" she threw her hands up in the air, for the lack of words to describe how she felt towards her parents. "Anyway, who cares about them now? This is my 'happy' weekend." She looped her arms around his neck. "This is _our _weekend."

"It sure is," he pecked her lips. "Hey, what are we going to do for food?"

"Why? Are you hungry?"

"No, no, I was just wondering," he shrugged.

"My parents were here just a few days back," she stood up and went to the fridge. "My mom said that it's well stocked with food," she opened the fridge and took a look inside, nodding. "Yep, there's food," she grinned at him.

"That's good to know." He patted the seat next to him, "Come here."

She went to him obediently. "So, what does Mr. Bing have in mind?" she asked coyly, tracing his jawline with her lips.

"Nothing," he shrugged, grinning. "Why, did _you_ have anything in mind?"

"Well," she pulled away from him, leaning her back against the armrest of the couch. "We have a rug. We have loads of blankets." She cocked an eyebrow. "And we have a _balcony_..."

"Are you trying to tell me something here?" he grinned at her widely.

"It might be romantic under the stars," she shrugged. "But, hey, if you're not up to it, we can always-"

"Tell me where the blankets are," he stood up abruptly.

~.~

"You were right," she sighed breathlessly, pulling herself closer to him. "It _is _romantic under the moonlight."

Their clothes were strewn about around them on the floor. The February air was cool, but they were still sweating from their recent exertion.

"Hey," she nudged him when he didn't respond. "Where are you?"

"I'm here. Right here." He pressed his lips to her forehead and pulled back slowly. He pointed at the sky. "And the stars. Under the moonlight _and_ the stars. See that one right there? That's Gemini."

She glanced at the sky and looked back at him skeptically. "Really?"

"Yes," he nodded. "And _that _one is Orion."

"_Really?"_

He looked at the expression on her face and chuckled, shaking his head. "Not really. In fact, I have no idea," he shrugged.

"Sweetie," she propped herself on her elbow, smiling. "I really think you should stick to data processing, and leave the astronomy to people who actually _know _astronomy."

"You know what I do for a living?" he asked, surprised. "I don't think even my _mother_ knows that."

"Statistical analysis and data reconfiguration," she replied proudly.

"Wow," he shook his head, still looking surprised.

"Well," she kissed his lips softly. "Don't look so surprised. I know it 'cause I kinda like you a _lot,_" she murmured, smiling.

His heart began to thump unevenly in his chest, and now, he had no doubt as to what this feeling was. He took her hand and pressed it against his heart.

"What?" she nudged her nose against his cheek, her breath warm on his suddenly cold skin.

"I'm in love with you," he said quietly.

He had imagined this moment a million times in the past few months, but no amount of imagining had prepared him for this.

Her hand remained limp over his pounding heart. The sound of the sea waves crashing on the shore filled the silence.

"What?" she whispered back several seconds later, her voice just as quiet as his.

He turned to look into her eyes, pressing her hand closer to his chest. "I am," he nodded. "I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for a long time now."

"Chandler," she shook her head, pulling her hand away. "Don't do this."

His heart sank at her words. He hardened his resolve and forced himself to continue. He can make her see it. He _will _make her see it. "I have to do this, Monica. You can't tell me how to feel," he shook his head, his voice rising a little. "I cannot hide this anymore, I can no longer pretend that _this_," he motioned between them, "is just a fling."

She sat up, holding the sheets close to chest. She touched his cheek gently, shaking her head. "I love you, too, Chandler, but-"

He sat up as he cut her off, taking her hand in his, moving closer to her, his voice tinged with desperation. "You know me. You know how I mess everything up," he leaned his forehead against hers. "But this is something I don't want to mess up, Mon. I don't want to lose this."

She closed her eyes, breathing in slowly. "Chandler..."

"I love you," he murmured again, kissing her closed eyelids. "And it's not because we're sleeping together," he shook his head. "You can grow fat, you can grow old, you can get plump and ugly, you can lose all your limbs," he held her hand tighter. "No matter what, I'll still love you. I will always love you."

She remained quiet, tears from her tightly shut eyes rolling down her cheeks.

"Do you know that feeling?" he asked her softly, his own tears stinging his eyes. "That feeling where you just _know _you'd take a bullet for that one person?" His thumb rose to wipe her tears away. "You're that one person for me, Monica. If somebody were to shoot you, I'd gladly take that bullet for you."

She cried silently, not having the strength to face him. She was breaking his heart, she _knew _she was breaking his heart. But it was better that it be broken now, than later when it'd be irreparable.

"Say something," he pressed his lips against her cheek, tasting the salt of her tears. "Anything," he pleaded.

"I don't know what you want me to say," she whispered finally.

"Tell me that you love me too," he implored. "Tell me that the strongest feeling that I've ever felt," his voice hitched, "tell me that you feel it too."

"I'm twenty-four, Chandler," she said, opening her eyes.

"What has age got to do with anything?" he countered.

"I already lost my job this week. I cannot lose you, too."

"That's it?" he asked her, feeling his temper rise. "You lost your job and you cannot lose me too? It was just a fucking job, Monica. You can find another one and you will." His breathing came harder, faster. "But this is _us._ This is my life, our life. Don't trivialize my feelings for you."

"I'm not trivializing anything!" she pulled her hand from his again, her tone matching his. "Yes, I know I can find another job," she nodded. "But why are you missing the point?" she brushed away the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. "I cannot lose you. I cannot find _another_ Chandler."

He sighed. "But how would you lose me?" his voice softened. "I'm _your _Chandler. You'll always have me."

He had said that to her in the rain. She remembered him murmuring '_I'll always be there for you'_ into her hair.

_Always. _She had been right. His words have been a promise.

She looked away from him, the tears in her eyes blurring her vision as she gazed at the sea. "I cannot afford to lose you, Chandler," she repeated, shaking her head.

"You are _not _going to lose me, Monica," he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Why- why are you so obsessed with-"

"Look at what happened between me and Kip!" she raised her tone, her eyes meeting his. "But that was just Kip. I don't mind him not being in my life. I didn't think about him once until you mentioned his name that day. I don't mind losing him at all, Chandler. But you," her voice turned husky. "You, I cannot live without," she whispered. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his, his lips cold and unmoving. She pulled back, gazing into his eyes again. "I'd rather die than live a life without you."

He smiled wryly, not bothering to wipe his tears away. "If that's not love, then what is?" he asked her softly.

He thought he could smell the salt of the sea. Maybe it was his own tears, he didn't know. One small glimmer of hope remained in his heart.

_She feels the same way about you. I can see it from the way she looks at you._

He hoped Joey hadn't lied.

She shook her head finally, her throat burning. "Love is too big a word for me now," she murmured, meeting his eyes again.

"It hurts, Monica. It hurts here," he touched his head. "It hurts _here_," he thumped his chest with his fist.

"But we swore it would never turn into anything more..." she said feebly.

She watched as the hope in his deep blue eyes slowly fall apart, and felt her own heart crumble along with his hope.

She thought she was saving them both from an inevitable heartbreak, but something was now telling her that nothing could ever hurt more than this.

"If that's your answer," he shook his head, wiping his tears away finally. "I cannot do this anymore."

He stood up abruptly, gathering his clothes, pulling them on.

She looked as he kept brushing his tears away.

He opened the balcony door and turned back to look at her one last time. "What happened to love, Mon?" he whispered into the cold night air before he closed the door behind him, leaving her alone.

She broke down completely.

She felt it at that moment – a searing ache in her heart, like a shard of glass had pierced it.

As her tears ran down her cheeks, she wondered if this is what love felt like.

~.~.~


	10. Fall Apart

_A/N: Whoa! Thank you for all the subscriptions and favoriting (I don't think that's a real word, but, oh well), and most importantly, for ALL the reviews! Frankly, it's a little bit overwhelming. If only I had known earlier that angst would get me so many readers... lol! :D_

_And I'm extremely sorry for the ridiculously long delay between updates. This chapter, for some reason, was exceptionally hard for me to write. I hope it'd at least be worth the wait._

_Anyway, my huge thanks to __**WendyCR72 **__(who is now my Beta) for her help with this chapter and for encouraging me to continue. Had it not been for her advice, this chapter would still be sitting in my laptop, not yours. _

_Any mistakes that remain are mine and mine alone._

Disclaimer: No, I don't own the show or the lines from the show, and I don't own the song '**Total Eclipse of the Heart**' – I notice that I've made a number of references to that song, and there are going to be a few more references to it, so I just wanted to say that _I do not own the song_, and that I just have an unhealthy obsession with it.

**If it's Love**

**Chapter 10**

He wished he could be numb to this pain.

He threw the cab fare absently at the surly cabdriver, his whole body trembling violently as he entered his building just past midnight. He knew it wasn't from the cold.

He had left the beach house empty-handed except for his wallet, forgetting even his coat.

Placing a foot on the flight of steps, he gripped the banister tightly, closing his eyes as he stood still for a second.

_But we swore it would never turn into anything more._

Her beautiful face filled with uncertainty, her blue eyes filled with tears – that was the only image his brain brought to his memory.

Tears sprang to his eyes and burned at the back of his throat. He wiped them away hastily and continued to climb up the stairs, his heart thudding dully in his chest.

He felt utterly defeated. Lost. He loved her. He knew without a doubt that she loved him, too. So why was she denying it? Why was she hell-bent on breaking his heart?

Every time he had held her in his arms, he had promised himself that he'd never let anything hurt her.

Now, _she_ was hurting him, and he didn't know what to do.

He reached his apartment after what felt like too long a time to him. He unlocked and entered it, only to find it empty and eerily silent.

Joey had spent the night somewhere else.

'Deafening silence' was an oxymoron which he'd always thought didn't make any sense, but now he knew exactly what it meant.

He needed a cigarette; he needed it now. His hands absently felt his pockets for his pack of cigarettes, and stilled when he remembered he hadn't smoked once in the past eleven months.

She had asked him not to. At first, he'd been reluctant to quit, but when she claimed that she was 'allergic' to cigarette smoke, he'd quit, even though he knew she was lying. _It's not good for you, either_, she'd said, her words tentative, as if she was uncertain whether 'worrying' could come within the territory of whatever they'd had between them.

"_I'm so happy I could die."_

"_You are the best thing in my life."_

"_I'd rather die than live a life without you."_

Her words swirled around in his head, making his temples throb. He could feel himself starting to hyperventilate.

He had to fill this silence with something, something that would drown out his thoughts, his memories, his pain.

His head swiveled towards the radio. He crossed to it and turned it on, listening as it crackled to life.

He stared at it when Bonnie Tyler's husky voice slowly filled the room – _Once upon a time I was falling in love, but now I'm only falling apart._

He reached over to pick up the radio and smashed it against the wall. He watched it as it shattered to pieces, the hundreds of tiny fragments blurred by his tears.

~.~

Joey tried to unlock the door the next morning, but frowned when he found it already unlocked.

Chandler couldn't have possibly returned. He had told him that he and Monica were spending the whole weekend at her parents' beach house, which meant that they'd be returning only the next day.

"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered as he opened the door and entered the apartment. He was absolutely certain that he had locked it before he had left for his date the previous night. Had someone broke and entered? If that was the case, one thing was certain – Chandler was going to kill him.

His frown deepened when he found Chandler's door half-open. He moved towards his friend's room with a sense of foreboding, but paused when he felt something crunch under his shoe. "What the-?" he murmured in confusion as he nudged the several pieces of the broken radio together with his foot.

Something was terribly wrong and he didn't know what it was. Strengthening his resolve, he resumed his walk towards Chandler's bedroom, squaring his shoulders instinctively.

He slowly pushed the door open, but stopped in his tracks, surprised. "Chandler?"

What was he doing here now?

He was slumped on the bed sideways, asleep over the covers. When Joey moved closer to him, he shivered slightly as if the room was suddenly too cold.

"Chandler," Joey whispered, patting his arm lightly, still in shock.

Something was not right. Although Chandler hadn't explicitly stated it, he'd somehow gotten the hint that he was going to tell Monica how he felt during this weekend at the beach house. And everything _should _have gone smoothly, but something was telling him that it hadn't.

"Chandler," Joey raised his voice and shook him harder.

He stirred slightly, turning a little to evade the person who was incessantly shaking his arm. "Mon, I..." he mumbled in his sleep, but his words died on his lips. His brain had awoken enough to remind him that there was no 'Mon'.

"Chandler, wake up," Joey tried again.

He opened his eyes slowly, squinting at that light that poured through the huge gap between the curtains. When Joey's eyebrows rose in bewilderment, he knew his own eyes were probably bloodshot.

"Dude..." Joey trailed off before he continued in a whisper, "what happened?"

"Nothing, Joe," he mumbled, burying his face in his pillow.

It smelled like her.

"Come on," Joey sighed. "What's wrong? How come you returned so soon?" He glanced at the pieces of the broken radio in the living room, his eyebrows knitting together. He turned to Chandler again and asked him the one question that he needed an answer the most for. "Where's Monica?"

He possessed neither the strength nor the energy to answer Joey's questions. "Leave me alone, Joey," he whispered, his quiet words muffled by the pillow.

Tears threatened to fall and he tried hard to hold them back. Until the previous night, he hadn't cried once since he was nine. He was good at building walls around him to protect himself from getting hurt, but now, she had succeeded in breaking that wall. She'd broken it with relative ease.

"Dude, are you okay?" Joey sounded panicked. "What happened at the beach house?"

He could feel his temper rise. He knew it was irrational – Joey was his well-wisher. In fact, he'd even say his 'best' friend – but all he wanted now was to close his eyes and forget the world for just a second; forget _her_ for just a second.

"_Leave. Me. Alone,"_ he gritted through clenched teeth. Just as he uttered those words, he sensed Joey backing away.

Joey, concerned and apprehensive all at once, stood still, stuck between his friend and the door. He glanced back and forth between both, and eventually turned to Chandler again. "Okay, just answer me this," he said slowly after several seconds of silence. "Did you tell Monica?"

Chandler remained unmoving for what felt like an eternity to Joey, but when he lifted his head and looked at him, Joey suddenly wished he hadn't asked the question.

He didn't need the answer now, not from Chandler. The myriad red cracks in his friend's eyes told him the answer.

"It's over, Joe," Chandler murmured, wondering for a moment whether breathing had ever been this hard before. "It's all over."

~.~

"Hey, you're back!" Ross greeted his sister as she entered her apartment the next day. "Okay, I know that um... you said that- you said 'only in case of emergency', but I-" he started stutteringly as he tried to explain the reason behind his presence in her apartment, but stopped on seeing her face.

Her face ashen, her eyes red-rimmed, she looked at him wearily.

"Mon, are you all right?" He moved closer to her in concern. "Are you not feeling well or something?"

"I'm fine, Ross," she nodded weakly as she pushed past him and dropped the bag on the couch.

"Are you sure?" he frowned, watching as she moved towards her room, unheeding him.

She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him, her nostrils flaring. "I said I'm fine," she repeated, her voice rising considerably.

"Ok-kay," he raised his eyebrows, making a beeline for the apartment door. He knew better than to stay in the same room as 'upset Monica'. "I'm gonna go now." He opened the door to leave, but turned back again. "Oh, hey, you have that interview today, right? Good luck!" he smiled, waiting for some response.

"Yeah," she murmured without turning back as she entered her room. The door closed behind her with a soft thud.

She waited until she heard the apartment door close shut behind Ross. She collapsed on her bed, letting her tears flow freely, not knowing that _he_ was doing the same thing.

~.~

Steve, Phoebe's massage client for whom Monica was making dinner, sat impatiently in the kitchen, rapping the kitchen table with his knuckles. "So what are you making?" he asked politely, not looking very keen on starting a conversation.

"Creamy onion tart," she replied, chopping the onions absently.

"Shouldn't you have already chopped the onions?" he arched an eyebrow, a thin smile veiling his annoyance.

The gravity of her situation was failing to settle in. The whole evening felt surreal, as if she was floating. She knew she was running behind, she knew she direly needed this job, but the determination and concentration with which she usually did her work were missing.

"Yes, I'm really sorry," she glanced behind her shoulder. "But the pastry's already in the oven. This shouldn't take more than twenty minutes."

"_Twenty minutes?!"_ his eyebrows rose further. "You haven't really planned this at all, have-"

"Would you like some more wine?" Phoebe butted in, smiling, pouring some into his glass without waiting for his response.

He grunted in displeasure with the situation, but sipped his wine, willing to be distracted.

Satisfied with the outcome of her intervention, Phoebe moved closer to Monica. "Are you sure okay?" she whispered, concern lining her face. "You seem a little preoccupied," she touched her arm lightly, as if to comfort her.

She was not the one to wear her heart on her sleeve; she rarely cried, she never displayed her hurt, but now, it just felt like her whole world was crumbling around her.

_Without him, _her heart added. _Your world is falling apart without him._

She didn't try to deny it. It was true, after all.

_What would I do without you, Chandler? _She didn't know, not anymore.

She'd be nothing without him. He was her source of strength, her source of happiness. Now he'd pulled away from her, leaving her cold and lost without him.

She wanted to sink to the ground and sob like a child.

_But he didn't end it. You did. So why are you complaining now?_

"Mon?"

"Yes, yes," she nodded, forcing herself into reality. "I'm all right."

"Okay..." Phoebe trailed off, looking unconvinced.

"_You should be a chef."_ He was the first one to tell her that. He was the _only_ one to tell her that. She smiled at the memory of his laconic reply and his then cocky demeanor.

"_You're going to be a wonderful chef." _His words so sincere that they made her heart constrict with an unfamiliar emotion, he'd said that, too, just a year later, when she'd told him that she'd gotten into culinary school.

She never told him that _he _was the reason she wanted to be a chef.

The cool blade of the knife touched her fingertip, but she didn't register it until it was too late.

She whimpered aloud, the pain unbearable. She glanced down, tears pooling in her eyes, noticing that her blood had spurted out, leaving a thin trail of red over the onions.

"Oh, my god!" Phoebe gasped, noticing it first. "Monica, you're bleeding!"

Her finger hurt like it had been burned. "It's nothing," she whispered as she clutched it tightly in her fist, her eyes closing shut.

Steve stood up and examined the girl's finger, tut-tutting when he noticed that the cut was rather deep. "You should apply some antiseptic," he glanced at Phoebe, who promptly left to look for one in the bathroom cupboard.

When Monica finally opened her eyes and looked at him, he could see fear, and then resignation in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Steve. I really-"

She couldn't be older than her early twenties. She looked scared and genuinely contrite. He felt a sudden surge of sympathy. He cut her off, "Y'know what, why don't we try this again next week?"

She looked at him skeptically.

"I promise I won't hire anyone within that time," he smiled, picking up his coat as he started to leave. "Meanwhile, fix that finger," he pointed at it. "It needs a Band-Aid."

She stared numbly as he left through the door.

A small sense of happiness floundered somewhere in the sea of grief, but it drowned quickly.

_"What if I botch up the dinner, Chandler?"_

_"__You won't, __all right__? C'mon, you've been doing this for like three years now. Just because some guy was stupid enough to fire you, it doesn't mean you're bad at what you're doing."_

_"__But what if-"_

_He placed a finger on her lips. "Do you trust me?"_

_She nodded, looking petulant._

_"__You won't 'botch it up', okay?" He kissed her forehead and pulled back, laughing. "Y'know, it's a positive wonder how much I like you in spite of your neurosis."_

Only she hadn't known he meant '_love'_, not '_like'._

"Okay, this is going to burn a little," Phoebe murmured her warning, placing the antiseptic-drenched cotton ball on her skin.

She hissed as the antiseptic seeped into the cut. A second later, she felt warm tears slide down her cheeks.

She didn't know why she was crying – maybe it was the pain. Maybe it was because she knew she'd ruined this dinner. Or maybe it was her broken heart.

~.~

Four days. He hadn't seen her in four days.

He came in early to work, and left for home very late. He had seen none of them other than Joey in these four days. He knew it was only a matter of time before either Ross or Phoebe barged into his apartment, inquiring him what was wrong. When it'd come to that, he didn't know what he'd tell them.

He was sick of being depressed. He was sick of thinking where it'd all went wrong, sick of wondering how he had messed it all up. He was sick of missing her.

_I cannot afford to lose you, _she'd said. But didn't she realize that whatever they'd had between them, even before they became something more than 'just friends', was already lost?

"Chandler, can you get me those numbers by noon?"

He turned to see that it was his boss. "Yes, sir," he nodded.

His only distraction was his work. For the first time in his life, he welcomed it for the break that it provided from reality.

"You can have Nina assist you with it if you want," Mr. Douglas added.

Before he could protest, his boss leaned in towards Nina's cubicle. "Nina, could you help Chandler? It's a lot of work, but I really need those numbers by noon."

"Sure, Mr. Douglas," he heard her reply.

He watched as his boss exited, and a second later Nina entered, smiling at him. "Hey."

"Hi," he smiled back slightly.

For some reason, his brain reminded him that when _Monica_ smiled, his whole world seemed to brighten up.

"Okay, let's get started then," she smiled again, pulling a chair next to him and sitting down.

_Pull yourself together._

~.~

"Is he kidding?" Nina shook her head incredulously. "How the hell are we supposed to get _all _of this done by noon?!"

He shrugged, helpless, momentarily disconcerted when he felt her foot nudge his ankle. A second later, he concluded it must have been an accident.

"Hey, how about-" she leaned in towards him, whispering conspiratorially, "how about we postdate the Friday numbers? That would help speed up the process a little."

He considered it for a second and then shook his head. "No. No, that would just throw my WENUS out of whack," he said absently. When he turned to look at her, she was grinning. "What?" he asked, confused.

"I wouldn't want to do _anything_ to hurt your... "WENUS"," she raised an eyebrow suggestively.

He felt his cheeks turn red as he stared back at her. "What?" he murmured again, feeling nonplussed.

"Okay, I know that was cheesy," she laughed, smoothing her hair, looking nervous, "but would you like to go out for a cup of coffee sometime?"

His heart thundered in his ears, and his mouth went dry.

This woman was kind, smart, beautiful and perfect.

She was perfect in every way other than the fact that she wasn't _Monica._

"I don't- I can't- I just..." he trailed off, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

He closed his eyes, shaking his head, his breath coming in short, irregular gasps.

He wouldn't be able to do this. He'd _never _be able to do this.

All of a sudden, he knew what he had to do to escape all of this.

"I'm sorry, Nina," he rose from his seat, already moving out of his cubicle. "Would you excuse me for a second?"

He could feel her eyes on his back as he moved swiftly towards his boss's office. He knocked on the door and waited outside until his boss called him in.

"Chandler?" his boss looked surprised. "Do you have the numbers already?"

"No, no," he shook his head, still breathing hard. "I just wanted to ask you something."

"What?"

"Sir, that London offer that you told me about a few months back..."

"Yeah?"

He looked around, convincing himself – this is what he wanted, this is what he had to do to forget her. He had to get away from everything, everyone. From her.

He turned to his boss again. "Are they still looking for someone from our branch?"

~.~.~

_A/N: Steve is the stoned guy from those S1 and S9 episodes. I just thought I'd make him less of a jerk, and 'un-stone' him (I'm pretty sure that that's not a real word, either)._

_Will be updated soon._


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